


To Find You

by Bennet87



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Champ is a douche canoe, Domestic Wayhaught, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gus is the OG Wayhaught shipper, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, May as well be called 'Wayhaught: The Musical Edition' by this point, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Smut, See ya Chump Hardy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 101,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennet87/pseuds/Bennet87
Summary: What if Waverly Earp and Nicole Haught were just two normal people living in a rather dull, non-supernaturally haunted Purgatory? Would their lives follow a similar path? Without the threat of impending death from a horde of resurrecting demons, would they even manage to find one another?I think we all know the answer to that one...Waverly is dissatisfied with her humdrum life as a barmaid and her less-than-fulfilling relationship with her high-school boyfriend. Nicole is the new deputy in town, a breath of fresh air that shakes up Waverly's otherwise static life. Both are searching for something - some sense of accomplishment in their lives - but don't know what or how.[A re-imagining of the show from season 1, without supernatural elements and focusing more on the initial meeting of and developing relationship between Waverly and Nicole, more than we saw in season 1 of the show. Obviously, it will deviate heavily from the canon.]
Relationships: Waverly Earp & Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp & Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught
Comments: 380
Kudos: 664





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! So, this is my first 'Wynonna Earp' fanfiction, and only my second ever (besides a one-shot and a couple of half-realised ideas) - the first was 10 years ago now...eek.
> 
> Reading others' stories gave me the bug I had years ago when I first gave writing fanfiction a go and I knew I just had to try my hand at this idea I had rattling around in my head.
> 
> I'm writing it as a re-imagining of the series, including and adapting snippets of existing scenes but without the supernatural elements from the show.
> 
> There will be drama in later chapters, I promise! But of the human kind instead. :) I always prefer to read and write slow build narratives and slow burn romance, so be warned in advance! It'll come...eventually...
> 
> Oh, and just a heads-up: I'm British, so will use the original British spellings (though I will try my best not to include phrases that Americans wouldn't - I may need additional help with that, however!)
> 
> Anyway, onward without further ado...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our two favourite heroines meet - albeit briefly - for the first time and Waverly ponders the direction her life has taken - or rather, not taken.

Waverly Earp stood behind the bar, as usual, absent-mindedly cleaning yet another glass with her usual filthy rag and watching the usual late-afternoon customers draining their drinks and chatting about trivial matters.

As usual.

She heaved a sigh, puffing out her cheeks, and turned the beer glass over to stack it neatly with its few remaining brothers on the shelf behind her. The grubby mirror in front of her – that she always tried so hard to keep pristine in spite of the near-daily spillages that always coated its surface – reflected her face back at her: dark circles nestled under her hazel eyes, whispering of the restless nights over the past few weeks; her lips were pursed into a thin, narrow line; her cheeks were bereft of their customary rosy tint, looking otherwise pale and almost gaunt. The town-proclaimed sweetheart of Purgatory, once head cheerleader of the local high school and most popular resident since her great-great-grandfather and local hero Wyatt Earp, could not quite put her finger on what had changed in the last two months to make her feel so…lost.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

She knew _some_ of the reasons why. At least the ones she felt comfortable admitting to herself.

In spite of just recently completing yet another correspondence college course – this time in Latin and ancient Greek – with flying colours and receiving effusive praise from every one of her remote professors, Waverly lacked the feeling of accomplishment in her life that she thought she would have managed by the ripe old age of twenty-two. For three years she had tried to better herself, expanding her intellectual horizons and pushing the limits of her academic mind at every opportunity. It was her way of trying to escape from the humdrum life she had grown accustomed to over the past sixteen years, of convincing herself that something _more_ lay somewhere out there for her, somewhere beyond the dusty town line that she had never dared to cross. For her, Purgatory lived up its name: for her, it was a cage, a prison that she longed to flee, one from which every day she waited for her eventual torturous release.

The problem was it never came.

Her now-daily descent into her own personal hell of spiraling doubts was finally broken by the sound of a hand slapping down on the bar behind her. ‘A shot of your best whiskey, please, darlin’.’

Waverly turned towards the sound of a voice she knew and loved so well, her eyebrows raised in reproach. ‘Uncle Curtis, you know what the doctor said...’

The older man grinned at her, his eyes twinkling with barely-suppressed humour. ‘Oh, come now – one shot of medicine won’t hurt.’

‘‘Medicine’, he says,’ a woman’s voice snorted behind him as she climbed atop a bar stool next to her husband. Waverly edged closer to her aunt Gus, a genuine smile crossing her face. ‘You’re a stubborn ol’ mule, Curtis McCready.’ She shook her head, her exasperation at her husband evident in every groove on her lined, weathered face. ‘There ain’t no convincing him, though. So best make it two glasses.’

Waverly hesitated for only a moment, looking at her aunt as she shrugged and spread her hands in surrender, before fixing the drinks with deft fingers. As much as she would rather be pouring her uncle a cool glass of water, she knew better than to argue with him; he may not be an Earp, but his obstinacy certainly rivaled her own family’s. His deteriorating health was yet one more reason to add to the laundry list of sore points in Waverly’s life. The feeling of dread that had settled in her stomach since he had been rushed to the hospital four weeks prior gnawed at her insides as she handed him his usual drink and watched as he downed it in one swift movement. She couldn’t help but feel she was aiding him in his slow shuffle down the dirt track to his own grave…

Waverly was still hovering in front of her relatives, her fingers worrying the frayed edges of the damp rag in her hand, when the sounds of an argument erupting from the pool table pulled her gaze towards the other side of the bar. Raised voices, slurring with the volume of alcohol both men had consumed, and the shattering of yet another glass tugged a frustrated sigh from the barmaid.

The York brothers.

As usual.

Rolling her eyes, Waverly marched towards the other end of the bar. ‘Hey!’ she yelled, her normally sweet voice inflected with a dangerous note of anger as she glared at the young men. ‘For _once_ , could we have an evening without one of you ending up with bandages?’

Both men turned their drink-soaked stares in her direction, apparently trying their hardest to focus on her pretty face as her ire gathered pace, her hands perched on her hips, her eyes darting between them. The youngest, Kyle, attempted to put his hands up in supplication as he stepped away from Waverly’s wrath – everyone knew not to get on the wrong side of the town sweetheart when she was _this_ riled.

Yet it seemed the eldest had other ideas.

Whilst his brother nodded his assent, Pete picked up the nearest pool cue and swung it around, the sickening crunch as it connected with the side of Kyle’s skull reverberating around the otherwise silent bar; the younger brother yelped, his hands gripping his bloody head as he wheeled around to face his attacker.

And that was that.

There was nothing anyone could do to intervene as the two men grappled with each other, drunkenly swinging their fists as they tried to punch any body part they could reach. Expletives exploded from their mouths as they scuffled, eventually ending up on the sticky floor, rolling around in the earlier broken shards of glass. Waverly put her hands on her head, knowing that it would only end once one of them was knocked unconscious.

Or not.

‘Stop that right now!’ a gruff voice bellowed from the entrance of the bar.

Waverly twisted around to find the local Sheriff of the Purgatory Sheriff's Department, Randy Nedley, trotting down the few steps that led to the bar, his age-creased brow knitted with the same irritation that Waverly could feel gripping her. He pushed back his black Stetson further down his head and marched over to the two brothers, gripping one of them roughly by the collar of his green plaid shirt and yanking him away. For an old man, he still had a surprising strength left in him, Waverly noticed. She watched as his deputy, a tall woman in a beige Stetson that Waverly had never seen before, pulled the other brother up from the floor and held him there, her hands clasped around his wrists as he struggled against her.

‘You boys best settle down if you don’t wanna spend another night in the drunk tank,’ Nedley warned them, his own hands grasping Pete’s forearms.

Again, it seemed the brothers had other ideas.

Kyle lurched forwards, kicking out with his right leg as he slurred something about a ‘cheatin’ sonofabitch’. That, it seemed, was his last strike.

In one swift movement, the tall deputy wrenched his arms behind his back, forcing him against the stained pool table and slapping a pair of shiny handcuffs on him, her right knee pressed hard into his back to prevent his squirming. ‘Should have listened to the boss,’ she muttered as she frog-marched him towards the entrance of the bar.

Still frozen in place, Waverly looked on as the woman nodded her head in her direction and tipped her hat towards her before disappearing through the double doors, Nedley in tow with his own trouble-maker, grumbling about the brothers ruining his customary afternoon coffee.

And with that, the normal casual murmur settled over the bar, the patrons returning to their own mundane conversations before the unsurprising interruption. _Just another Purgatory afternoon,_ Waverly thought, sighing as she bent down to pick up a dustpan and brush from behind the bar and made her way over to the scene of the commotion. Some days it really sucked being the only barmaid at _Shorty’s_. Today was one of those days.

‘Hey, darlin’, you need any help?’

Waverly smiled up at her aunt’s offer but shook her head. ‘No, it’s okay, Gus. I’ve got it, thanks.’

Gus leant against the pool table and watched her niece sweep up the pieces of glass that littered the floor, apparently lost in thought. When Waverly looked up again, it was to find her aunt’s eyes staring into her own, a gentle expression softening her otherwise hard features.

‘What?’ the younger woman questioned as she straightened up.

‘You’re a good kid, Waverly,’ her aunt answered.

And that was it. She said nothing more. Waverly grinned, shrugged, and returned to the bar to throw the debris away. Something occurred to her as she moved with Gus back over to Curtis, now nursing his second glass of whiskey, much to Waverly’s chagrin.

‘Did you see the other deputy with Nedley?’ she asked, her gaze wandering to the bar’s entrance. ‘Do you know who she is? I’ve never seen her around before.’

Both her aunt and uncle shook their heads. ‘I heard Nedley made a new hire,’ Curtis said, lowering his glass. ‘Never caught her name, though. Out-of-towner, it seems.’

‘A bit of new blood might do the place good,’ Gus added. ‘She certainly seemed to know how to handle the York boys' nonsense, and Lord knows she’ll run into them often enough.’

Waverly nodded absently, only half paying attention to their replies as she picked up her usual rag and began to clean the usual dirty glasses once more.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our two favourite heroines finally have their first conversation, albeit it under...unusual circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've uploaded this one rather soon after the first one as I felt it was important to get the first proper meeting between the two characters up. Let's see what you all think... :)

Nicole Haught sat at her desk, squinting at the computer screen in front of her as she finished reading over the York boys’ statements from the previous day. Garbled though they were, they both corroborated the story that the fight had started over a petty pool table squabble.

_Boys will be boys…_

She huffed out a short laugh and shook her head. When she had taken the job as Sheriff’s deputy in Purgatory, Nicole had expected something a little more…well, exciting. With a name like that, the town had intrigued her, to say the least. She had imagined running into eccentric residents with decades, perhaps even centuries, of history attached to their illustrious names, awe-inspiring stories seeping from their very pores; she had envisaged a town crammed with secrets that whispered on the very winds that caressed the dusty roads that snaked through it.

What she had found instead was your stereotypical, tiny backwater town. There were no romantic shades of the old Wild West painting its recent history, no revered elders who regaled the locals with tales of the ‘good old days’. Indeed, the most thrilling callouts were usually for Patches, the homeless man who wandered the local park at night, cursing belligerently at any hapless passersby that made the mistake of venturing into his ‘home’, or drunken brawls at _Shorty’s_ , which were apparently a dime a dozen. Or so Nedley had grumbled to her yesterday evening after they had safely thrown the York boys into a cell for the night to sober up.

Perhaps she had been naïve to expect such a life. Perhaps it was simply her childhood fantasies born of reading larger-than-life narratives about the Wild West outlaws and their exhilarating adventures that had led her to overestimate Purgatory’s old-world appeal. Whatever it was, she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t just the tiniest bit…underwhelmed. Disappointed.

With a very audible sigh, Nicole leant back in her chair, her fingers digging into the taut muscles of her left shoulder as she tried to knead out some of the tension clustered there. Though she had heard of the ‘legendary’ bar that was _Shorty’s_ , yesterday had been the first time she had stepped foot in the establishment in the week since she had packed up her life in the big city and moved to Purgatory with just three boxes and two suitcases to her name, enough to squeeze into a small hatchback with room to spare. Nedley had insisted on her joining him for his regular four o’clock coffee to ‘meet some of the locals’, an activity he claimed was responsible for most of his arrests over the years. ‘Intelligence gathering’, he called it; Nicole, however, figured it was because most of the arrests came in the form of drunkards needing to be hauled out of the bar and tossed into the drunk tank. The height of excitement…

There had, though, been one main advantage to their timely arrival; she had finally managed to catch a glimpse of the celebrated barmaid everyone gushed over: Waverly Earp. Nicole hadn’t been in town two days before five separate people had bent her ear about Purgatory’s local sweetheart, running out of superlatives to describe just how sweet, how kind, and how pretty she was.

 _Well, they certainly hadn’t oversold the last one,_ Nicole thought. The beginnings of a smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the petite brunette standing behind the bar in a cropped blue and red _Shorty’s_ shirt that rode up _just_ enough to reveal the smallest sliver of her toned midriff, a small frown creasing her smooth brow as she had watched the deputy marching the drunk York boy out of the bar. On her list of ‘to meet’ Purgatory locals, Waverly Earp was certainly a priority.

Nicole was dragged from her own wandering (and completely professional, of course) thoughts by the sound of the police radio crackling to life beside her, echoing the Sheriff’s gravelly voice: ‘Er, Officer Haught? We’ve got a report of shots fired at _Shorty’s_. I’d go myself but I’m dealing with a serious case on the other side of town. You all right to go by yourself?’

Nicole snatched up the receiver, perhaps a little _too_ enthusiastically considering the nature of the call. ‘Yes, sir, I got it,’ she breathed down the line.

‘If it seems dangerous, hang back and wait for backup, got it?’

‘Yes, sir, will do.’

And just like that, Nicole Haught had an excuse to return to the bar – and, hopefully, one Waverly Earp.

***

The tyres of the police cruiser were screeching to a halt outside the bar mere minutes later as Officer Haught yanked up the handbrake and stepped out of the car, shuffling to reposition the bulky bulletproof vest underneath her jacket. Remembering her training at the academy, she slipped her pistol from its holster at her side and cautiously approached the double doors; peering in, she could see that the bar was now deserted, half-empty glasses scattered across various tables, half-eaten snacks abandoned at the bar, and even…a solitary shoe.

_Huh._

Apparently the locals had left in a hurry. But what about the staff…?

Edging one door open with her elbow, Nicole crept over the threshold, gun held out in front of her, her aim steady, eyes darting around the room and ears straining for any sounds of life. One measured step at a time, she made her way across the creaky floorboards. A single question thrummed in her mind: was the shooter still on site? If so, she may need to act swiftly to put him down, if the need arose…

Suddenly, the unmistakable notes of heated voices drifted down the stairs at the far end of the room, punctuating the silence. Nicole aimed her gun in their direction, her gaze trained at the top of the flight of stairs.

‘Whoever’s up there, come down with your hands up!’ she called out. ‘I’m a Sheriff’s deputy and I am armed!’

The sounds of the earlier argument stopped, only to be replaced with hurried footsteps that brought two people into Nicole’s crosshairs; her eyes widened as she recognised one of them.

Waverly Earp.

Face screwed up with what could only be described as Hell’s fury. _No, a woman’s scorn…_

Waverly Earp.

Carrying a double-barrelled shotgun in her slender hands.

 _Well,_ that _wasn’t what I was expecting…_

Waverly stumbled down the stairs behind a dark-haired, tattooed young man, stalking after him as he took long strides towards the double doors. ‘Don’t you walk away from me, Champ Hardy!’ she growled, either ignoring or oblivious to Nicole’s presence and her still-raised gun. ‘Next time I’ll aim a bit more to the right and pump lead into _you_ instead of the wall!’

The man, Champ, stopped dead and wheeled around, a sheepish half-grin on his boyish face. ‘Babe, I already told you, you got it wrong. I was just helping her with some research.’

‘Oh, yeah, ‘research’,’ Waverly spat back at him, emphasising the last word with notable venom in her voice. ‘What were you ‘researching’, her _bra size_?’ she added, the volume of her voice rising with each word as she prodded him in the chest with the barrel of her shotgun.

Champ tried to back away, his hands raised in front of him in a gesture of appeal to the five-foot-odd mass of burning rage that was advancing on him. ‘Come on, Waves, it was your sister, I’d never–’

But Waverly was apparently in no mood to listen to any more of his excuses; it was only when she cocked the shotgun again that Nicole snapped out of her bewildered stupor and rushed forwards, her free hand outstretched towards the weapon.

‘Ma’am, please put the gun down,’ she said calmly, her training taking over as she stepped in between the petite barmaid and her now-terrified quarry, attempting to guide the weapon so that it was facing the ground instead. ‘I’m sure we can sort this out amicably.’

Waverly scoffed and rolled her eyes, but didn’t raise the gun again. Instead, she fixed Champ with a narrow, scorching glare over Nicole’s shoulder, nostrils flared and chest heaving with violent breaths. _If looks alone could kill…_

‘I don’t want to see you here tonight,’ she hissed.

Champ looked as though he was going to argue, thought better of it at the steely glint in the barmaid’s eyes, and instead turned on his heel and hurried out of the bar. _Good riddance,_ was all Nicole could think as she watched him go, before catching herself and remembering that it really was none of her business. Both women stood in silence, the smaller one attempting to steady her breathing as she still clutched the gun tightly in both hands.

It was a few moments more before Waverly even seemed to register Nicole standing in front of her, hand still hovering over the shotgun gripped in the smaller woman’s white-knuckled hands. When she did, her eyes widened as she apparently realised what was happening.

‘Oh, er, off-officer,’ she stuttered, hastily dropping the weapon onto a nearby table. ‘Um, I – I can explain.’

Despite the otherwise serious nature of the situation, Nicole couldn’t help the half-smile that teased at her lips, the chuckle that tickled the back of her throat. ‘That would be _very_ helpful,’ she replied, gesturing to two chairs as she holstered her own pistol and set her Stetson on the table alongside the antique-looking shotgun.

Waverly slumped into the chair nearest to her, resting her head in her hands as she groaned loudly. ‘Oh my god, I can’t believe I did that…’ Nicole waited patiently for her to look back up, her notebook and pen at the ready; finally, Waverly obliged, nervous eyes glancing everywhere but at the woman in front of her. ‘I, er – _may_ ’ – she elongated the word, her voice rising an octave higher – ‘have overreacted to finding my boyfriend in bed with another woman.’

Out of all the explanations Nicole was expecting, that wouldn’t have been her first guess. Yet, in true stoic fashion, she kept her expression neutral as she scribbled her notes.

‘Okay,’ she began, considering her words carefully. ‘And did this, er – _intruder_ – threaten you in any way to make you feel the need to shoot?’

Out of all the sounds Nicole was expecting to hear in return, laughter wouldn’t have been her first guess. Yet here the brunette was, chuckling wryly as she shook her head.

‘Um, no, not exactly,’ she replied, twisting her fingers in her lap as she finally looked the police officer in the eye. ‘It was my older sister. But I only realised that _after_ I shot!’ she clarified quickly, as though worried the redhead may judge her unfavourably for firing a weapon at a close (well, _-ish_ ) relative.

Nicole refrained from responding that she had come across numerous occasions when opening fire upon a close(-ish) relative had been entirely justified – she didn’t think the young woman would appreciate such dry humour at such a time. Instead, she closed her notepad with a small sigh.

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to give you a warning for shooting a weapon in a public place without reason, and I’ll need to see your licence for said weapon. You can bring it to the station later if it’s not here. Nothing more will come of it unless one of the other two, er – participants – decides to press charges.’

Given one of them was apparently her boyfriend and the other her sister, Nicole highly doubted that would be the case. Then again, stranger things had happened…

‘Thank you, officer…’ Waverly’s voice trailed off as she apparently realised she had no idea to whom she was speaking.

‘Oh, Nicole,’ the redhead offered, holding out her hand. ‘Nicole Haught.’ Waverly accepted the introduction with a smile, taking Nicole’s hand in her own, her grip soft and gentle. ‘And you are Waverly Earp,’ Nicole added as she dropped her arm back to the table. ‘Quite a popular girl around here. Well, usually.’

Waverly groaned again as a faint blush painted her cheeks. ‘I soon won’t be if I keep these shenanigans up,’ she muttered. ‘Not exactly a great first impression of ‘Purgatory’s Nicest Resident’, huh?’

‘Oh, trust me – I’ve seen _far_ worse.’ This time, Nicole couldn’t help but chuckle at the other woman’s evident embarrassment as she stood up from the table, Waverly eyeing her curiously. ‘Well, I should get going. Plenty of other lovers’ quarrels to break up, you know how it goes.’

She hoped the attempt at humour would land well with the brunette; thankfully, Waverly seemed to accept it with the good grace with which it was intended. Her lips curled up into a shy smile in response as she quickly glanced away before looking back at the redhead.

‘Before I go, though, I’d love a cappuccino to go if you’re serving…?’

Nicole looked over at the bar, eyes scanning it for the coffee machine; her eyes lit up when she found it, realising that she had foregone her usual lunchtime beverage in favour of rushing over to deal with the ruckus. _Just doing my duty,_ Nicole lied to herself – apparently with great ease as she mentally buried the _real_ reason for her enthusiastic response to the callout.

Waverly followed her gaze before turning and shaking her head. ‘I’m so sorry, it’s broken.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘I keep telling Shorty he needs to fix it, but he just says it’s not worth it. Most people drink the filtered stuff here. You know, small town, small tastes.’ She shrugged as though she disagreed but had resigned herself to the fact all the same.

‘Right, of course,’ Nicole laughed, picking up her hat and nestling it back onto her head. ‘Well, never mind. Maybe I’ll come back later and try that instead.’

And with a small wave, a nod, and a tip of her Stetson, she strolled out of the bar, feeling altogether satisfied with her first proper callout since arriving in Purgatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicole is a poet and she don't know it.
> 
> As you can see, a complete spin on the original meeting from the show. I always wondered why no-one bothered to pull Waverly up on firing her shotgun at Wynonna! Is it that common in America that no-one bats an eyelid?? (Sorry, British sarcasm...can't help it...)
> 
> As before, any feedback greatly appreciated. :)


	3. The Prodigal Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our favourite middle Earp rears her sarcastic, screwed-up head and Waverly has mixed feelings about her return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have 7 chapters written so far, so I may as well put them out there rather than leaving them locked away on my laptop.
> 
> A short chapter (even by previous standards), but it introduces another important character (sorry, no Wayhaught in this one, but the next one, however... :)).

The next day brought with it even more pressing problems for Waverly. As if finding her sister straddling her boyfriend in their own flat and shooting at her - _twice_ \- with a fully-loaded shotgun wasn’t enough, now she had to witness the habitual argument brew between the dark-haired middle Earp and their aunt. Gus had never entirely warmed to Wynonna throughout her reckless teenage years and her twice-yearly trips to juvie. Sure, she loved both sisters equally, but Wynonna was…difficult to deal with, to say the least.

‘I just don’t think an apology would go amiss here, missy,’ Gus said, her voice even despite her obvious irritation with her niece.

Wynonna stood leaning against the kitchen door frame, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she frowned and scoffed. ‘I’m sorry, _which_ one of us was just almost killed with a frickin’ shotgun here? If anyone is owed an apology, it should damn well be _me_.’

‘I said I was sorry,’ Waverly murmured, her meek input evaporating before the other women’s withering gazes.

‘That wouldn’t have happened if _you_ hadn’t returned and poked ya nose in others’ business – as usual,’ Gus retorted.

There was that word again: ‘usual’. Yet this ‘usual’ event had at least disrupted Waverly’s other ‘usual’ routine of tedium lately. Whatever Waverly felt about her dramatic reunion with her sister, she was at least glad to see her after three years apart, even if this feeling was tangled up with other, less savoury ones that she tried desperately to suppress. No-one could accuse Wynonna of being predictable.

‘I was just trying to find out what the hell happened to the homestead,’ Wynnona sighed, flinging herself onto one of the wooden dining chairs and putting her feet up on another, only for them to be swatted down by her aunt. ‘I drove past it. It’s obvious Chump and his bosom buddies had been there, what with the gazillion beer bottles around the place.’

‘That was years ago,’ Waverly interjected, tactfully ignoring her sister’s insulting nickname for her boyfriend. ‘No-one’s been there for a long time now.’

She refrained from revealing exactly _how_ she knew that, for it would lead to all manner of awkward questions about some of her secret late-night excursions back to her childhood home over the past year. Even she couldn’t explain why she felt drawn back to it after all this time.

Her worry was all for naught, however, as the other two women appeared content to overlook her presence in the room.

‘But why _now_ , Wynonna?’ Gus asked, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinised her niece. ‘It’s been three years.’

Wynonna shrugged. ‘Couldn’t it just be because I wanted to be with my family on my birthday?’ Her aunt raised an eyebrow, not even attempting to hide her scepticism. ‘No? Well, whatever.’

She stood up, stretched her arms above her head, and headed for the front door without another word. Waverly watched as her aunt shook her head and turned back to cleaning the kitchen counter before deciding to hurry after her sister; Wynonna was already halfway to the blue and white pickup truck parked outside when Waverly stepped out onto the porch.

‘Wynonna, wait,’ she called out. ‘I’m coming with you.’

Wynonna yanked the driver’s door open. ‘You don’t even know where I’m going,' she tossed over her shoulder without looking back.

Waverly jogged around to the passenger’s side before her sister could get in and start the ignition. ‘I don’t care. We need to talk.’

And besides, it was rather obvious where Wynonna was going - where she always went after a particularly prickly argument with Gus: _Shorty’s_. In that respect, at least, she was _entirely_ predictable.

The older Earp let out an audible sigh as she jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, but she didn’t object. Waverly had barely managed to tug her seatbelt into place before Wynonna had turned the key and stomped on the accelerator pedal, the truck’s wheels squealing in protest as the car peeled away from the house and onto the road, kicking up dust and grass behind it. If there was one thing Waverly could never forget about her sister, it was her questionable driving skills (she used that word loosely). Indeed, they had put her at the end of a speeding ticket or twenty over the previous decade, along with several misdemeanours for reckless driving. Her countless brushes with the Purgatory law enforcement were the stuff of bored, small-town gossip-mongers’ wildest dreams and still earned her both wide-eyed stares as well as the odd curt comment whenever she deigned to grace the town with her presence after years of conspicuous absence.

And yet, whatever mischief she managed to embroil herself in each time, Waverly was always oddly grateful for her return – no matter how infrequent it was becoming.

‘So, baby girl, what’s new?’ Wynonna asked, as casually as if the embarrassing events of yesterday had not even happened. ‘You know, besides being reminded, yet again, that Chump is a cheating horndog.’

Waverly rolled her eyes. She took it all back: Wynonna being back was a pain in her ass and nothing more.

‘Not much,’ she sighed, her gaze sliding to the passenger’s side window as she watched the myriad of green and yellow fields slip by in a blur. ‘Same old Purgatory.’

‘Come on, you must have _one_ juicy morsel for me?’ her sister whined. ‘Otherwise why did I bother coming back at all?’

Wasn’t _that_ the question on everyone’s mind. When Waverly didn’t respond, Wynonna glanced over, apparently noting the stony look on her face.

‘What’s up? Where’s the annoyingly positive, always optimistic, ‘sun shines out of her butt’ Waves gone that we all know and barely tolerate?’

Waverly heaved a sigh and shrugged one shoulder. ‘Right here, same as always. Right where you left me.’

‘Ah.’ Wynonna appeared to think carefully before continuing, ‘You know I’m sorry, right? I wouldn’t have left if I thought I had a choice.’

Waverly whipped around in her seat to fix her sister with narrowed eyes; she could feel her heartbeat increasing as she clenched her fists into tight balls. After everything they had been through, Wynonna had chosen exactly the wrong words to say at that moment.

‘You _had_ a choice,’ she retorted. ‘You _chose_ to up and leave – again – without a single word.’

‘Hey, hey, hey – I called.’

‘Yeah, _after_ you landed in Greece – and it was a voicemail. Because you obviously chickened out of speaking to me properly.’ Seeing the look of guilt that flashed briefly over her sister’s countenance did nothing to calm Waverly’s temper; indeed, the fleeting nature of it only served to make her blood boil hotter. ‘What, no more excuses?’ Her sister simply shook her head, opting for penitent silence instead – perhaps for the first time in her entire life. ‘Jesus, Wynonna. I don’t even know why I’m surprised any more. I keep hoping that things will change one day, that you won’t be just another person in my life who disappoints me.’

Waverly tucked her hands into her lap, blinking away the angry tears that had sprung to her eyes. She refused to cry yet again over her sister’s antics. Enough tears had already been shed over the years because of them.

A terse silence billowed between them, expanding until it felt as though there was no more air inside the truck, as though they would suffocate at any minute.

‘Waves, I – I don’t know what to say to make it better,’ Wynonna began, apparently unable to endure the tension any longer. ‘You know what a fuck up I am. Always have been. Ever since that night…’

Her voice trailed off, as it always did whenever she alluded to that fateful evening fifteen years ago: the one that had ripped away two of Waverly’s loved ones within minutes. The one that haunted her still – the sight of her sister being dragged out of the house by some local hoodlums, her screams piercing the previously tranquil night air – her father staggering out to rescue her, no weapon in hand in his haste to scramble over to his eldest daughter.

And Wynonna, snatching his discarded gun off the kitchen table.

Wynonna, aiming at one of the hooligans with shaky hands.

Pulling the trigger and changing their lives forever…

Waverly knew Wynonna had never forgiven herself for their father’s death, nor her sister’s disappearance (she still refused to say ‘death’ – there had been no body, after all). In some dark, unexplored corner of her heart, Waverly wasn’t sure _she_ had forgiven her sister, either. It was just another reason why Wynonna’s sporadic reappearances were both a blessing and a curse each time.

They say time heals all wounds. But what happens when it regularly rips open that wound, digging around in it and rubbing salt on it, so it forever stings and galls, over and over again…?

‘You don’t need to say anything,’ Waverly finally sighed, facing resolutely forwards so she didn’t have to look at her sister’s pained face any longer. ‘I know.’

***

As predicted, they pulled up outside of the bar fifteen minutes later. In spite of yesterday’s drama, Wynonna eagerly bounded through the doors of her second home, greeting the proprietor with a cheery demand for a whiskey. Shorty glanced between the two sisters, Waverly hanging back slightly as Wynonna perched on a stool, before shrugging and acquiescing.

‘Shorty, I – I’m sorry. About yesterday,’ Waverly began in a tentative voice. ‘I lost my cool. Obviously I’ll pay to fix the wall…’

She trailed off, feeling the guilt crawling over her as her boss turned to fix her with an inscrutable expression. He handed the glass of whiskey to Wynonna before leaning against the bar, beckoning Waverly closer; she obeyed, clasping her hands together and looking determinedly at a spot just over his shoulder.

‘Say no more about it,’ he replied. ‘You’re a good kid. I know you’ll repay me.’

It was the second time someone had complimented her in such a way; Waverly was beginning to question their judgment of character given recent events that spoke to the contrary. Rather than voicing this doubt, she nodded, offering an apologetic smile as Shorty stood up straight and turned his attention to a customer a few feet away. As she watched him taking the man’s order, her eyes fell upon the broken coffee machine that she had been nagging him to replace and a memory from the previous day tugged at the edges of her mind. Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, she made up her mind: she could at least do one good deed for the day.

Muttering a quick goodbye to her sister – who seemed otherwise occupied with subtly trying to pinch the rest of the whiskey bottle whilst Shorty’s attention was diverted – Waverly grabbed the keys to the pickup and hurried out of the bar.


	4. The Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole makes a fool out of herself during only her second meeting with Waverly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short one this time - just a bit of relationship-building between the two and a brief insight into Nicole's past.

Slamming down the phone on her third prank call of the day from yet another bored teenager, Nicole leant back in her chair and glanced out of the window behind her. Outside, the sun was beating down from a brilliant blue sky, with only the occasional wisps of soft clouds marring the otherwise perfect sight. It was on days like this that she yearned to do an outdoor job: a farm labourer, perhaps, or a cattle rancher. She had always loved spending her holidays on her uncle’s ranch down south when she was younger, when her parents had to jet off to some far-flung country for work.

At times, she had been bitter about their seeming lack of concern for her needs, dumping her with her mother’s brother whenever it suited them, but mostly she enjoyed it. Working outdoors, feeding the chickens and helping to name the newborn calves every spring (God rest little Britney’s soul), had been one of the few bright spots in an otherwise dull childhood. Sometimes she wondered whether she shouldn’t have taken her uncle’s offer of work seriously, after all; she quite fancied herself sitting astride a magnificent chestnut-brown horse, her legs clad in navy jeans and cowboy’s chaps, torso wrapped in a red plaid shirt, a beaten beige Stetson nestled atop her braided auburn hair as she cantered about the ranch, rounding up cattle under the warmth of a brilliant sun.

But then a career in law had beckoned to her, and she hadn’t been able to refuse its siren’s call.

Thus, she now found herself slouched behind a desk, attempting to dig her way through the mountain of paperwork that Nedley had dropped on her that morning, casting aside all thoughts of seeing the outside world again until the sun had long dipped beyond the horizon.

At least she got the Stetson. It was a small compromise.

It was as she was burying her minor resentment for her otherwise gratifying job that the door down the hall was pushed open and she found herself looking up at a pretty face with a radiant smile and twinkling hazel eyes.

‘Waverly Earp,’ she greeted the brunette, standing up as some outdated notion of chivalry prodded her to move out of her chair. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure this time? Please don’t tell me another sister came to town to shack up with your boyfriend?’

The joke tumbled from her mouth before she had even realised what she was saying; she winced at the insensitivity, but she needn’t have done so. In spite of the fleeting flicker of hesitation, Waverly chuckled at the attempted humour and shook her head.

‘Thankfully, no,’ she replied. ‘I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday and to give you this.’ She set a to-go coffee cup on Nicole’s desk, wiggling the other one in her hand to show that they matched. ‘I couldn’t get you that cappuccino at Shorty’s, so I thought I’d make it up to you by bringing you one instead. And perhaps to make a better second first impression,’ she added with a nervous titter.

Nicole stared down at the cup rather dumbly. It was a good five seconds before she found her voice and managed to stutter out a response: ‘Oh, you didn’t need to do that,’ she mumbled, picking up the coffee with eager hands nevertheless. ‘I was just doing my duty.’

‘Yeah, well, let’s be honest – I got off lightly considering…you know…’ Waverly grimaced, apparently reliving the awkward encounter from the previous day. ‘Anyway, it’s nothing, really.’

Nicole begged to differ: it was the first friendly gesture she had been offered since arriving in town, and she appreciated it enormously, however small it was. Sipping the drink with greedy lips, she could feel the liquid warming up her insides as it slid effortlessly down her throat.

And it wasn’t the only thing…

The grin that split Waverly’s face, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled with genuine pleasure as she watched Nicole accept her gift, were enough to make the redhead’s heart skip the tiniest of fluttery beats; she spluttered into the coffee cup as some of the liquid slid down the wrong hole and began to choke in the most undignified way possible.

‘Oh, are you okay?’ Waverly squealed, reaching her hand out as though to help.

Nicole raised her own hand to reassure her as she attempted to gulp down gasps of fresh air, her eyes watering and her cheeks burning as she continued to struggle, punching her own chest with a balled-up fist. She managed to cough out an unconvincing ‘I – fine –’ as Waverly hurried off into the department’s nearby break room, quickly returning with a glass of water that she shoved into Nicole’s hand. Refraining from pointing out that it was a drink that was the culprit here in the first place, Nicole grasped the beverage and swallowed it in one go.

Waverly graciously ignored the single stream of liquid that dribbled down the redhead’s chin.

_Smooth, Haught. She totally doesn’t think you’re an idiot now._

After fifteen more tension-laced seconds (she counted them meticulously), her breathing steadied and mouth hastily wiped, Nicole sighed her relief. If she had thought to impress the town’s sweetheart today, things were not going as planned. At all. _So useless. Just kill me now..._

‘Thank god for that.’ Waverly huffed out a short laugh as she unclenched her fist and visibly relaxed. ‘Adding ‘killing the new deputy’ wouldn’t exactly have looked good on my recent list of questionable activities.’

‘Oh, it would have only been involuntary manslaughter,’ Nicole retorted with a quick smile as she wiped the tears that had nestled in the corners of her eyes from her embarrassing near-death ( _total exaggeration_ ) experience. ‘Less time in prison, you know.’

It was as they were standing there, both grinning at each other – like fools, Nicole was sure – and sharing their private joke that Sheriff Nedley wandered out of his office, eyeing them with his brow furrowed before clearing his throat loudly. Both women flinched, startled, and turned their gazes to look at the intruder.

‘Officer Haught,’ Nedley began slowly, his gaze still flitting between the both of them, ‘do you have that report from the shooting incident yesterday?’

Nicole couldn’t help the involuntary glance up at Waverly, watching as a faint blush crept onto her cheeks at the mention of the debacle she clearly hoped to forget. ‘Um, I’m nearly done with it, sir,’ she replied quickly, sliding her gaze back to her boss. ‘I’ll get it to you as soon as I’m finished.’

Nedley simply nodded and, with one last curious look at Waverly, shuffled back into his office and closed the door. Nicole breathed a soft sigh; Waverly coughed, her awkwardness seeping out of every fidgety movement.

‘I should, er, go,’ she stuttered, already backing away towards the exit. ‘Thank you again for…you know. Sorry, I’ll make sure to bring my permit next time!’ she added as she disappeared through the double doors.

Nicole’s own whispered ‘Goodbye’ fell pathetically into the empty space between them, heard by no-one except herself.


	5. The Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole returns to Shorty's bar and meets another of Purgatory's more eccentric residents - and, of course, sees Waverly once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently AO3 has finally decided to keep my formatting with regards to paragraphing (I indent rather than leaving a line, usually). I'll leave it, but if it makes it harder to read or anything, just let me know and I'll change it. :)

Another six days crawled by and Nicole found that she had barely had a chance to relax. As one of only two deputies in the small station (and the newest recruit), Nedley had saddled her with most of the mundane paperwork from the week’s petty crimes: five counts of graffiti scrawled on various buildings around town; two cases of cats stuck up a tree (the same cat – twice); three incidents of neighbourly quarrels over the direction of their garden sprinklers (the same neighbours, every time); and five drunken brawls at _Shorty’s_ (three involving the York boys. Shockingly). As minor and tedious as they were, they took up the majority of Nicole’s time, shackling her to her desk in between the callouts as she waded through the bureaucratic sea of paper that accompanied each one. To her great disappointment, she had not managed to speak to Waverly Earp since the infamous coffee incident that had been seared into her own brain out of sheer mortification. Instead, she had had to content herself with the odd friendly nod as she marched yet another drunkard out of the bar and with frequent lingering looks – at least on her own part – when she knew the other woman’s attention was otherwise engaged.

There was something about the young barmaid that drew her, urging her thoughts to wander at the most inopportune times – usually when she was elbow-deep in yet another stack of forms that did nothing to stimulate her mind. If Nedley had noticed that she was taking longer to file reports this week compared to the last, he had yet to say anything. Sometimes, life granted small mercies.

Whether it was the brunette’s easy, gentle smile, her warm eyes that promised a fast friendship with anyone that cared to take it, Nicole wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, the redhead knew that, some way, somehow, she had to further her acquaintance with the town’s most popular resident. Nedley was always going on about getting to know the locals, after all. It was part of her duty as Purgatory’s only deputy. Of course.

As if reading her thoughts, the Sheriff appeared in the doorway of his office; picking up his black Stetson and ramming it onto his head, he tilted his chin towards the direction of the exit.

When Nicole only stared blankly at him, he sighed. ‘Come on, kid. Time for a break,’ he muttered. ‘It’s Friday evening. You could do with unwinding a bit.’

Nicole glanced around the station, uneasy at the suggestion; there was only one other officer there – a part-timer at that – which would leave the building woefully short-staffed.

When she voiced this concern to her superior, he simply scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. ‘You’ve been here two weeks now. You really think something drastic is gonna go down on a Friday evening that _doesn’t_ involve _Shorty’s_ in some way?’

He had a point, of course.

‘Well, when you put it like that, sir…’ Nicole grinned as she stood up, shrugging into her jacket and picking up her own Stetson.

‘No alcohol, mind,’ Nedley clarified, leading the way to his cruiser. ‘Not in uniform.’

Knowing this already, Nicole said nothing; she was simply grateful to escape the confines of her desk, even if it was for one hour and a cup of filtered coffee.

***

Within ten minutes, both officers were walking through the now overly familiar doors of the bar. As Nedley marched straight up to perch on his regular bar stool, Nicole took her time, instinctively scanning the room and taking in the scene: it was, as she had expected, crammed with locals, mostly regulars kicking back after a full day’s work. The incessant hum of chatter tickled her ears as the cheery notes of a country folk song drifted out from the bar’s retro jukebox. A group of rowdy young men crowded the lone pool table (Nicole made a mental note to keep an eye on proceedings in _that_ direction); the tattooed arms of one of the players caught her eye and she recognised the boyish grin of the sheepish escapee from the previous week: Champ Hardy. That would mean…

Nicole finally slid her gaze over to the bar itself and, sure enough, wiping down a beer glass with a filthy rag and laughing along with the smitten punters leaning towards her was Waverly Earp. Feeling her feet finally move, Nicole made her way over to the Sheriff and waited for him to catch the barmaid’s attention. The moment he did, Waverly bounded over to them, beaming as she slung the rag over her shoulder.

‘Officers,’ she smiled sweetly, inclining her head slightly in welcome. ‘What can I get ya?’

‘The usual, please, Waverly,’ Nedley said. ‘And the same for this one.’

He jerked his thumb in Nicole’s direction and Waverly glanced at her, nodding her head.

‘Coming right up.’ She paused in turning, seeming to remember something. ‘Oh, I think the filter ran out earlier. I’ll have to go back and get another one.’

Both the Sheriff and his deputy nodded their silent understanding and watched as she hurried off, ducked under the entrance of the bar, and rounded the corner out of sight. Just as Nicole had done upon entering, Nedley flicked his eyes across the room, taking his time as he surveyed the scene.

‘What do you see?’ he finally asked without looking back at Nicole.

‘Not much out of the ordinary,’ she replied quickly. ‘Hotspot is obviously the pool table, as always.’

The last two words elicited a huffed laugh from the Sheriff as he nodded in agreement. They both watched as Champ threw up his arms in defeat, drunkenly shouting his displeasure before staggering around the corner in the direction of (what Nicole presumed to be) the toilets.

‘What else?’ Nedley prompted, his eyes drawn to the other side of the bar where a lone dark-haired woman sat, nursing a tumbler of whiskey and scrolling through her phone.

Nicole followed his gaze. ‘I think I’ve seen her here before when we’ve been called out, but I don’t know who she is.’

This time the laughter that bubbled up from his throat was bitter, a short bark devoid of mirth. ‘Oh, you soon will. Trust me.’

The redhead decided it was best not to probe further. She watched the woman for a little while longer, taking in her dour expression and increasing alcohol consumption as she topped up her own drink with more from the nearby whiskey bottle. That act alone suggested that she was known to the owner; either that or she was a bold-faced thief. Both could be true, Nicole supposed.

Finding little else of interest in that direction, the deputy switched her attention to the other side of the room once more, focusing on the raucous pool players. They, too, continued to drain the bar dry of alcohol, apparently having already set up another three pints of beer each before Waverly had disappeared to find a new filter for the coffee pot.

At the thought, something niggled at the back of Nicole’s mind, but she dismissed it almost immediately as she felt a sudden stab of pain from somewhere near her abdomen. _Duty calls,_ she realised as she remembered that she hadn’t taken a toilet break all day. All that water she had consumed was finally catching up to her, it seemed.

Standing up, she glanced around the room, looking for the telltale sign that would point her in the right direction. When she found none, Nicole decided to go looking; with her incredible powers of deduction honed through years of training to be a police officer, she determined that it was probably around the corner at the other end of the bar.

Leaving Nedley with a quick glimpse that hopefully conveyed her intentions, Nicole wandered through the loose crowds, head swiveling around in search of her destination. It took all of her self-restraint to ignore the slurred attempts at compliments thrown her way by the drunken pool players; rather than bite out the retort that was nipping at her throat and pinning them to the table with the sharpness of her tongue, she clamped her mouth shut and contented herself with roundly abusing them in her mind. Not so satisfying, of course, but it was less likely to lose her the two-week old job she would rather hold onto, thank you very much.

It was as she approached the corner and moved further away from the jukebox that she heard muffled voices, their undulating tones suggestive of a heated disagreement. Nicole hesitated, wondering whether she should pry, when her impatient bladder kicked her again and forced her hand.

Swallowing her indecision, she turned the corner only to be met with a sight that banished all thought of the restroom from her mind.

‘Champ, you’re drunk,’ Waverly hissed, back pressed up against the wall as her boyfriend leant against her, his hands planted either side of her head as he attempted to kiss her neck. ‘Just go upstairs and we’ll speak later.’

Apparently, Champ had other ideas; he ignored the pressure of his girlfriend’s hand as she tried to push him off her, instead bringing his hips closer to her, pinning Waverly against the wall.

‘Come on, babe,’ he slurred, his lips running over her bare shoulder. ‘You owe me an apology from last week, remember.’

‘Cham– ’ Waverly’s protest was cut off by the man’s lips as he pressed them roughly against her own.

Watching numbly as the barmaid continued her struggle to extricate herself from the unwanted embrace, Nicole’s brain finally seemed to register what she was seeing. She stepped forwards, close enough to be heard by both parties.

‘Hey,’ she called, gripping Champ’s arm and wrenching him off the other woman. ‘I think the lady was very clear about not wanting you to touch her.’

The young man stumbled backwards, his unfocused stare fixing on the unwelcome intruder. ‘Bitch, watch where ya put y’hands,’ he spat, staggering as he tried to keep his balance. ‘Wait, I know you…’ He stumbled forwards, narrowing his eyes as he looked more closely at Nicole’s face. ‘You’re that – cop from – th’other day. Yeah…’

‘I think you’ve had enough for the night,’ Nicole replied, her voice steady as she reached down towards the handcuffs at her side – just in case. ‘Why don’t you just go home.’

It wasn’t a question. Champ blinked heavily as he seemed to process her words.

‘Fuck you,’ he muttered, putting one hand out to balance himself against the wall. ‘Ain’t nobody tell me – what t’do.’

‘Champ, just listen to her,’ Waverly insisted. ‘You’re drunk and not thinking straight.’

As he opened his mouth to sputter what Nicole was sure would be another drunken tirade, a second bystander rounded the corner; Nicole turned her head to find the same dark-haired woman she had spotted earlier standing there, empty whiskey bottle in hand. She stopped dead at the sight before her, eyes darting between the three others before focusing on Waverly in particular.

‘You’re out of whiskey,’ she said nonchalantly – or at least that was the tone she aimed for. Nicole could hear the hard edge to it as she glanced at the intoxicated Champ still staggering on the spot. ‘Everything all right, Waves?’

With each word she inched closer to the petite brunette, hand slightly outstretched as though she was trying to pull the woman closer to her. Waverly simply nodded, teeth gritted, lips a thin, tight line. Apparently, they knew each other well, for Waverly grasped her arm and clung onto it, slender fingers clutching the fabric of the dark-haired woman’s black leather jacket.

‘How about we get you to bed, Chump? It’s way past your bedtime,’ the newcomer said, and this time there was a tinge of authority in her voice, one that almost dared him to refuse.

Seemingly accepting he had no choice in the matter, Champ attempted an annoyed scoff as he allowed himself to be led away and up the same stairs Nicole had seen him hurrying down the first time she had set eyes on him. Before they disappeared out of sight, Nicole thought she saw both women glance down at her; Waverly may even have offered her a small smile, but it was impossible to tell from this distance.

It was then that Nicole eventually remembered the purpose of her wandering and scanned the nearby doors, finally locating the women’s restroom with a relieved sigh as she felt another stab in the vicinity of her bladder.

It was also then that Nicole realised she had been completely wrong in her earlier assessment of the quaint town: whatever else it was, Purgatory certainly was not dull.


	6. The Morning After The Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we witness a rare intimate moment between Waverly and Wynonna, more embarrassed Waverly, and the first (brief) conversation between Nicole and Wynonna - the start of a beautiful friendship? I think so. :D

The early morning sun filtered through the wooden blinds of Waverly’s bedroom, the slices of light streaking her bedclothes and forcing her to shield her eyes against their harsh brilliance. She groaned once and rolled over. As was always the case with these restless nights, dawn seemed to arrive all too quickly once she had finally managed to doze off into a fitful slumber. Just once she would like to squeeze in more than four hours of fragmented sleep. Was that really too much to ask?

After attempting to will herself into unconsciousness for the better part of the next thirty minutes, Waverly finally abandoned all pretence and flopped out of bed. The sound of her frustrated grumbling followed her all the way downstairs to the kitchen, where she came to a sudden stop when she spotted another person already slouching in one of the dining chairs.

She blinked. Once. Twice. _Nope, still there._

It was a miracle. An honest-to-God miracle.

‘Wynonna?’

Her sister, always the last one to bed at night and the last to stumble downstairs in the morning (that was being generous – it was more often the early afternoon, usually with a pounding headache and a mood that would frighten the devil himself), was sitting there sipping freshly-brewed coffee. And looking relatively presentable by her own morning standards.

And…humming.

_Huh._

‘Hey, baby girl,’ Wynonna grinned, sounding for all the world as though it were mid-afternoon and not the ass-crack of dawn. ‘Couldn’t sleep?’

Waverly swallowed the scoff but didn’t quite manage to catch the eye roll in time. ‘As if.’

Her sister nudged another chair from under the table with her foot and gestured for her to sit down. Waverly obliged. The morning’s minor marvels seemed to stack up as Wynonna then stood up and set about pouring the younger Earp a matching mug of steaming coffee, putting it down in front of her without a word.

‘Thanks,’ Waverly breathed through a yawn.

They sat in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, both nursing their caffeine with a sort of bleary reverence, until Waverly felt sufficiently roused to speak again.

‘So what dragged you out of bed this early?’ she ventured, glancing at her sister over the rim of her mug. A sudden thought occurred to her. ‘Wait, did you even make it to your own bed last night?’

Wynonna had the good grace to look scandalised by the accusation. ‘And just who do you take me for, little sis?’ Waverly raised her eyebrows. ‘All right, I accept your point,’ she conceded. ‘But I’ll have you know I was safely tucked up in dreamland at a respectable hour.’

Waverly bit back the ‘For once’ that hovered on her lips; now was not the time to rib her sister for her past antics – not when she was behaving so…normally. So…not-Wynonna.

‘I just…didn’t sleep too well, either,’ Wynonna explained with a shrug. ‘Probably something to do with that asshole boyfriend of yours. No offence,’ she added as an afterthought, fully intending to cause offence.

‘None taken,’ Waverly sighed. She gripped the handle of her mug as she set it down onto the table, watching as her knuckles began to drain of colour. ‘But, you know…that wasn’t the normal Champ.’

Even to her own ears, the excuse sounded pathetic. Wynonna’s face contorted in disgust, saving Waverly the effort of doing it herself.

‘Don’t kid yourself, Waves,’ her sister snorted scornfully. ‘You forget: I’ve known him as long as you. I’ve seen him drunk plenty of times and with _plenty_ of girls.’

Waverly tried to wave a dismissive hand, but it fell limply onto her lap instead. ‘He’s harmless, really. He’s just…’

‘A giant douche canoe,’ Wynnona offered. ‘And you can do so much better. You _deserve_ so much better.’

Staring down at her own neatly manicured fingernails, Waverly contemplated her sister’s statement. _Did_ she deserve more? Wasn’t it true that almost everyone she had cared for in her life had deserted her at some point or another, left her alone to fend for herself? Willa, her father, even Wynonna had disappeared – the latter repeatedly over the years. If _they_ hadn’t seen something worth sticking around for, why should anyone else?

‘Now don’t you go dragging up those old doubts,’ Wynonna warned her, wagging her finger in her sister’s face. ‘I know what you’re thinking and you need to stop.’

‘Wh–’

‘You are the very best of a _very_ shitty bunch of people,’ Wynonna continued before Waverly could interrupt. ‘Don’t you dare ever doubt your worth.’

Her candour stunned Waverly into silence. She had never even expressed her lingering insecurities to her sister before, had never revealed the fears that gnawed at her insides every time something went wrong in her life (which was, let’s face it, more often than not). Not even to Gus, the only real mother figure she had ever known. For years, they had festered, prodding and poking her, reminding her of their dreadful existence whenever she felt that things might just start going her way in life. But, in true Waverly fashion, she buried them in the deepest recesses of her heart and never told a single soul.

So just _how_ did Wynonna know exactly how she felt? Could it be? Was she - 

‘I’m psychic,’ her sister grinned.

‘Okay, now you’re scaring me,’ Waverly spluttered. ‘Are you _in_ my _head_?’

The grin dissolved into full-blown laughter. ‘Oh man, I wish you could see your own face right now.’ Waverly huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘No, baby girl. I just know my little sister.’ Just as soon as the mirth had appeared, it vanished, to be replaced with a sad grimace. ‘You forget we grew up in the same fucked up family.’

It was the closest Wynonna had ever come to admitting aloud that she had struggled with the same issues over the years: the same fears, same doubts, same stigma that Waverly had battled with since she was six years old. It was…oddly comforting, in a twisted, pitiful sort of way. She wasn’t the only freak in town.

‘Anyway,’ Wynnona said, slapping her palms onto the table and making her sister jump. ‘Enough of this Oprah shit. Let’s get some breakfast. I could _murder_ some pancakes.’

***

Waverly couldn’t remember the last time she had been out for breakfast with Wynonna. Hell, even just out for breakfast, period. It was rather calming, sitting by the window and watching as the town roused itself from its deep slumber little by little. The streetlamps flickered off one by one, apparently on an unnecessary long-delay given the early spring sunrise; engines hummed to life as the residents trundled off to work, some brave souls venturing as far as the big city to earn their living; others took to the streets to clear the front of their porches, ridding the paths of the layer of dust and grime that often swept in with the nightly winds. Waverly observed it all, allowing herself to be soothed by the warmth of her second ( _Okay, third_ ) mug of coffee. For once, there was nothing to disturb her peaceful musings.

Or so she thought.

As if on cue, the door to diner opened, the tinkling of the bell signaling the entrance of another caffeine-deprived early-morning customer. Smartly dressed in her standard-issue khaki trousers, blue shirt and beige Stetson, Officer Nicole Haught leant on the counter and quietly ordered from Hetty, the young waitress. She waited patiently, drumming a beat with her fingers on her thigh as her coffee was fetched, beaming at Hetty in thanks when it arrived. Small dimples creased the corners of her lips as she did so.

Waverly only realised that she had been staring (rather rudely, if she was being completely honest) at the redhead when the woman herself turned in her direction and, with a spark of recognition, offered a welcoming smile.

_Dimples._

Quickly clearing her throat, Waverly shifted her gaze to her coffee mug; she was in the process of pretending it was the most fascinating object she had ever seen when she heard the approaching thud of heavy boots on the linoleum floor.

‘Morning, ladies,’ the cheerful voice of Deputy Haught greeted them. Waverly looked up in time to see her touch the tip of her hat, just like an old-fashioned gentleman-cowboy. _Cowgirl?_ ‘I thought it was just us idiots with early starts and demanding bosses that would be up at such an ungodly hour.’

Wynonna squinted at the woman, apparently trying to figure out where she had seen her, before the revelation struck. ‘ _Oh_ , you’re the one from last night – Waverly’s lady knight in khaki armour.’

Nicole chuckled; Waverly blushed and hunched further into herself, eyes squeezed shut, trying to smother her embarrassment at the thought of the previous night’s ordeal. Of course, Wynonna’s whiskey-drenched brain remembered _that_ , yet conveniently forgot her baby sister’s birthday most years…

‘It’s Nicole. Nicole Haught.’

The redhead held out her hand, which Wynonna shook as her one side of her mouth curled up into a lop-sided smirk. Waverly knew what was coming. She could hear it a mile off: Wynonna’s own brand of tactless quips. But – _idiot_ – she couldn’t react fast enough to head it off.

‘Nicole _Hot_? How appropriate,’ Wynonna guffawed.

To her credit, Officer Haught did not look offended at the wholly _inappropriate_ comment. Not even mildly put out.

Rather, she simply smiled. ‘I’ve heard all variations of the puns. There’s nothing that surprises me now,’ she replied. Another chuckle. ‘But thanks – for the compliment.’

‘Ah, a challenge.’ The smirk widened into a full-blown grin. ‘I accept!’

Waverly wished her sister would just _Shutherstupidmouth_ , just this one time. But, of course, she had fulfilled her quota of small miracles that morning. Wanting to appraise the damage her sister’s lack of discretion had inflicted so far, Waverly finally lifted her head to remind her of her younger sibling’s presence. She opened her mouth to say something – _anything_ – to change the subject, but was spared the bother as Nicole’s demeanour shifted and she became suddenly serious.

‘Are you okay this morning?’ she asked, the sincerity of her concern reflected not only in her soft voice but also, Waverly noticed, in her brown eyes. ‘Last night can’t have been…easy.’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Waverly smiled weakly, her mouth dry as she swallowed her own mortification. ‘It was nothing, really. He just had a bit too much to drink is all.’

She could feel Wynonna’s burning stare, could see her twitching out of the corner of her eye, wanting to cut in, and kicked her shin in warning.

‘ _Ow_ ,’ Wynonna muttered, but said nothing else, thankfully accepting the hint.

‘If you say so,’ Nicole replied, slowly, cautiously, not wanting to pry. Waverly was grateful that at least _someone_ here had some tact. ‘Anyway, I better run. That pile of paperwork won’t file itself.’

With a half-wave, half-salute, she turned towards the exit. Waverly sighed, relieved that the awkward encounter was now over and –

‘Later, Haught Stuff!’

Wynonna’s cackle was met with a distinctly unimpressed raise of the eyebrow as Nicole looked over her shoulder, retorted with ‘Heard it before’, before disappearing through the door. The bell tinkled sadly in her wake.

‘I like her,’ Wynonna proclaimed to nobody in particular as she returned her attention to her dwindling stack of pancakes.

Waverly offered a barely audible ‘Mmm’ in response as she sipped her coffee idly, allowing her thoughts to wander just for a moment, locked safely as they were within the prison of her own mind. She thanked God – or whatever was looking out for her right then – that her sister was _not_ , in fact, psychic and could not divine her train of thought as her gaze lingered on the police cruiser, watching it rumble down the street and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't know why it keeps repeating my first chapter notes about switching perspectives? Anyone know how to get rid of it? Anyone who's made it this far already knows the deal haha.


	7. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly returns to the Homestead and deals with some painful memories of the past.

It was with a jolt that Waverly awoke that same night, her heart racing in her chest. Rolling over, she squinted through sleep-smeared eyes at the digital clock on her bedside table: 02:34am. Just an hour and a half after she had finally given in and attempted to get some rest after staying up to watch an inane chick-flick with Wynonna (well, _she_ had tried to watch it – her sister mostly swigged from her beer bottle until she passed out on the couch).

Something about Wynonna’s behaviour worried her, and not just because she had opted for something softer than hard whiskey. It had been with great reluctance that she had draped a blanket over her, left her snoring in the living room and headed for her own bedroom ninety minutes earlier. Her sister had seemed more distant than usual since she had abruptly reappeared in their lives two weeks previously. Sure, she still cracked her wise-ass jokes and drank enough to make a sailor retch, but…

Waverly couldn’t put her finger on what it was that had her so concerned. Realising that she wouldn’t be able to divine the answers in the suffocating silence of her moonlight-speckled room, she crept downstairs, careful to avoid the three creakiest steps on the way down as she listened carefully for Wynonna’s breathing.

_Huh._

There was no snoring. No muttering in her sleep.

And no Wynonna.

Brow furrowed, Waverly wandered through the house, checking the guest room, the bathroom, even the back yard.

Nothing.

Wynonna wasn’t in the house. Which meant…

Waverly dashed over to the front window and peered through it into the darkness beyond. Under the cloud-obscured light of the moon, she could make out one thing: Gus’ truck was gone.

With a frustrated grunt, Waverly began to rack her brains. _Shorty’s_ was closed, and even Wynonna wasn’t stupid enough to break in there for a drink. Not when there was alcohol right here at home.

_Home…_

The thought hit her suddenly, barrelling into her and making her gasp softly. Hadn’t she, Waverly, been drawn back enough times over the past ten months? Hadn’t Wynonna already been back there at least once since her return to Purgatory? It was worth a shot, at least…

Without any further ado, Waverly yanked on her warmest boots and thickest coat and hurried out into the night.

***

She tried her best not to fly down the deserted roads in the middle of the night – she really did – but it was only ten minutes later that Waverly’s red Jeep was squealing to a stop outside a ramshackle wooden house that she knew all too well. As predicted, Gus’ blue and white truck sat silently no more than fifteen feet away. Leaping out of the vehicle, Waverly didn’t even bother slamming the door shut before trudging up the few short stairs that led to the front door. They groaned under her weight, announcing her arrival to whomever was inside.

‘Wynonna?’ she whispered as she nudged the screen open further – it was already ajar, she observed. ‘Are you in here?’

No reply.

Waverly took a deep breath – and inhaled enough dust to make her choke. She spluttered as she stumbled through the doorway. _Oooh, I really hope there are no bad guys here,_ she thought absurdly, realising how childish it sounded. At least she hadn’t voiced it aloud…

Reminding herself of her _very important reason for being here_ , she inched further into the decrepit house, trying not to dwell on the memories that were carved into every object, every piece of furniture that lay scattered throughout the building.

The crumbling staircase, the first thing anyone saw when they entered the house.

_Age 4: she sobbed as Willa snatched Mr. Plumpkins out of her tiny hands, running off into her own bedroom and slamming the door behind her. Her father shooed her away as he poured his fourth glass of whiskey._

The archway to living room on her left, the room itself shrouded in near-darkness.

_Age 5: she watched on as both Willa and Wynonna’s heights were measured against the doorframe, pretending her heart didn’t break all over again when her father turned away and put the pencil down without acknowledging her._

The opening to the kitchen to her right, tablecloth riddled with moth-eaten holes.

_Age 6: she stood frozen as Wynonna ran to the front door, raised the gun, and fired…_

Waverly shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to banish the painful recollections. The house held nothing but sorrow and anger for her, and yet this was now the ninth time she had willingly ventured back into its musty, suffocating stranglehold within the past ten months. Whatever else she was, Waverly Earp was apparently also a glutton for punishment.

‘Get a grip,’ she muttered to herself, brushing the thin layer of dust off her shoulders and forcing herself through the archway to the living room.

As expected, she found nothing except a now-torn couch, a mouldy armchair, a splintered coffee table, and a fireplace that still held the charred remains of its final blaze some sixteen years ago. The same was true for every room on the bottom floor of the house: broken remnants of a life long ago littered the carpets and linoleum, but there was no sign of Wynonna.

There was, of course, only one place she could be.

Waverly approached the foot of the stairs and let her gaze wander to the top. If someone _was_ up there, the squeaking of the wooden floorboards would surely alert them to her presence. Still, it couldn’t be helped. This time she decided _not_ to take a bracing breath in, instead creeping upwards towards the landing with her lips tightly pursed. Her heart began to tremble in her chest as she neared the one room that held the most conflicting memories of her youth, the one she had not dared to enter during her previous eight visits to the house. Hand shaking, palms now slightly clammy, she reached out and nudged the door open; she could feel an array of emotions struggling for dominance within her: fear, anger, grief – all for the lost childhood trapped within the walls of her old bedroom.

There was her bed, its faded, pink floral duvet flung aside – _she leapt out of bed with a scream as the commotion started, her tiny legs carrying her across the floorboards and down the stairs_ – now yellowing with age and years of harsh sunlight. Here was her child-sized dressing table – _she sat in front of the mirror, brushing her long brown tresses with her hundredth stroke, just as mama used to do for her_ – its mirror cracked, peeling, reflecting her fragmented silhouette back at her through its countless shards. There was her once-white bookshelf, now a sickly-looking brown – _she curled up on the bed, tucked under four blankets, reading_ The Ugly Duckling _for the fifth time that day, wondering what it felt like to grow up and become something magnificent, loved, better_ – that still safeguarded her favourite stories from years long past.

It was all too much. Grief won out and Waverly crumpled to the floor on her knees, arm flung out towards the doorframe in a vain attempt to catch herself. Sobs racked her tiny frame until she was gasping for breath, lungs burning. Sixteen years later and it still tore her apart.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, eyes fixed on the curtains that fluttered as a chill filtered through the broken windows. One minute she was in an exhausted, anguished daze, and the next a pair of strong arms were wrapped around her shoulders, cradling her.

A soft voice caressed her ear. ‘I know, baby girl. I know.’

Face streaked with now dry tear-tracks, Waverly leant back and buried her head into her sister’s chest. They sat like that for an undetermined length of time, Wynonna resting up against the doorframe with her sister nestled into her, until Waverly finally regained some semblance of composure.

‘I knew I’d find you here,’ she mumbled, her words stifled by Wynonna’s leather jacket.

‘I just…had to see it again, you know?’ Wynonna murmured, her voice muffled by Waverly’s hair as she leant her chin against the top of her sister’s head. ‘I haven’t been back since…’

Waverly nodded, needing no more explanation. ‘I’ve been coming back for the past year. But I never made it up here.’ She sighed, and felt the force of it ripple throughout her body. ‘I don’t know why, but I felt like it was calling to me.’ She sensed rather than heard Wynonna’s agreement. ‘Something’s always been missing since…that night.’

It was almost imperceptible, the sudden rigidity that stiffened Wynonna’s limbs, but it was there – in the slightly tightened grip of her fingers around Waverly’s arms, in the subtle hitch of her breath. Waverly buried herself further into her sister’s embrace, trying to reciprocate some modicum of comfort.

‘Of all the times I fucked up, baby sis, this was the worst.’ There was a quiver in her voice as she spoke, one that whispered of unshed tears. ‘I’m so, _so_ sorry.’

Waverly gently disentangled herself from her sister’s hold so that she could twist her body to face her. As she watched the silent tears roll down Wynonna’s face and brushed them away with her thumbs, she realised that, no matter what, she would _always_ forgive her. They were family. The last two remaining of a screwed-up legacy.

‘Don’t,’ she scolded, voice firm now. ‘Don’t do that. It _wasn’t_ your fault. You tried to save him.’ Wynonna simply shook her head and leant her cheek into Waverly’s palm, eyes squeezed shut. ‘We were _kids_ , for Christ’s sake. There was nothing you – nothing _we_ could have done.’

Silence descended once more. Neither woman knew what to say, so they said nothing at all; they simply sat there in one another’s company until the first rays of the encroaching dawn peered over the flaking ridge of the landing window. A wan smile eased onto Waverly’s face as she watched the world wake.

‘Happy birthday, Wynonna.’


	8. The Start of Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole befriends an unusual roommate and considers the little things, and Waverly embarrasses herself...again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there are moments (paragraphs, really) in the next couple of chapters that I'm a little unsure about, in terms of the way I've written them. We'll see how it works out...

Nicole lay awake that night, turning over the day’s events in her mind. In true Haught fashion, she dissected them bit by bit, probing them for evidence of…something, before attempting to stitch them back together with careful, cautious fingers. Hoping for some enlightenment as to what the big picture was. If, indeed, there even was one.

It was the first time she had seen – and briefly spoken to – Waverly outside of their respective work places, and it was something she was increasingly hoping they could replicate at some point in the (very) near future. Vivid images from the morning’s interaction drifted before her mind’s eye: Waverly watching her as she accepted her coffee and turned around; the way she quickly averted her gaze when Nicole caught her staring; her hesitant glance up at last when her sister whipped out the jokes.

Her lingering gaze out of the diner’s window as Nicole drove off, observing the brunette’s actions in her rearview mirror with a soft smile playing on her lips.

Nicole knew those looks – she _practised_ those looks, often without realising herself. The ones that spoke of nerves, curiosity, embarrassment at being caught staring just a little too hard and a little too long.

Yet, for all that, Waverly Earp was still very much an enigma to the redhead. She was more than the fast smile, the easy wave, the genial demeanour that she projected in the bar, of that much she was certain. Every good barmaid knew how to charm the punters and keep them returning for more than just the mediocre beer and too-salty peanuts; that was simply a façade – or, at the very least, only the surface layer of a much more complex, intriguing picture underneath.

Nicole huffed out a sigh and rolled onto her back, nestling her hands underneath her head and interlacing her fingers as she stared up at the ceiling. She had been awake for long enough now that her eyesight had adjusted to the soft moonlight that peeped through the gaps in her blinds and she could just about make out the resident spider that crept across the beige lightshade. In the absence of a pet, Nicole had taken to calling the arachnid Maria (of course it was a girl – it was fierce-looking up close and bold enough to reveal itself so openly to Nicole every day without fear of being captured or killed). Sometimes, in the darkest hours of the night when (almost) everyone else in the town was safely slumbering, she would whisper to Maria, regaling her with her daily activities, her hopes and musings. It had always helped her to process her issues aloud, to hear and almost _see_ the words as they danced into the air. When she was younger, she had always confided in her uncle’s cows and chickens, telling them about her parents’ jobs and how her mum and dad would often have to leave her behind to do _Very Important Stuff_ abroad.

Well, she didn’t have any cows or chickens to converse with in Purgatory. Maria would have to do.

‘What do you think, huh?’ she muttered, squinting to focus on her eight-legged friend in the dim light. ‘You reckon I have a chance? I mean, I know she has a boyfriend and all, and they’ve been together since high-school.’ She uttered a noise of disgust, recalling Nedley mentioning it in passing on her third day after Nicole had asked him about Purgatory’s so-called ‘Nicest Resident’. ‘It sounds like she’s only ever been with guys. Or, _a_ guy, at least.’ Another drawn-out sigh. ‘But I don’t know – I think there could be something there. The way she looked at me…’ A scoff and a snort. ‘Probably just wishful thinking.’

Despite her confidence in her own sexuality, Nicole had never been one to push herself on other girls, especially when she didn’t even know their orientation. Sure, she’d engage in harmless flirtation and see whether it was reciprocated or not, but that was it. Usually, she left it up to the other woman to return the interest before she made any sort of move, until she was certain there was the possibility of something more.

Then again, if she didn’t at least hint at her attraction, how would Waverly know she was even an option worth considering?

_No, that wouldn’t be fair,_ she chastised herself. _She’s with Champ. Ugh._ Whatever her (contemptuous, disdainful) feelings about Waverly’s choice of partner, it was the brunette’s decision and hers alone. She wouldn’t interfere. For now, at least, she would be friendly and nothing more. If an opportunity arose to offer more, she would deal with it then.

‘Thanks, Maria,’ she mumbled as she squeezed her eyes shut and willed sleep to take her. ‘Good talk.’

***

The gnawing yearning for caffeine (and a desire not to lose her job for being late) dragged Nicole from her bed early the next morning. That, and the shrill screeching of her 6am alarm, which she promptly flung a hand towards to stifle. After sleep-walking through her daily routine (shower, brush teeth, wrap hair up into its usual French braid, throw on uniform – fresh shirt, khakis, boots, then Stetson – remember to pick up holster and work-issue pistol) and realising that she _still_ had not plucked up the heart to throw out her broken birthday gift of coffee machine and replace it, Nicole slumped into the driver’s seat of her car and made the five-minute journey to the diner on auto-pilot.

The bell jingled as she bundled through the door, stifling a yawn as she leant against the counter and waited for Hetty to finish serving an elderly gentleman.

‘Officer,’ Hetty smiled cordially. ‘The usual?’

‘Please,’ Nicole returned as she scrubbed the palm of her hand across her right eye and blinked rapidly, desperately trying to rouse herself. It was no use – she would have to wait for the caffeine.

Within sixty seconds, she was handed her regular order: medium cappuccino and a plain croissant. She thanked the waitress and turned to leave, all set on getting into work early so that she could catch up on some of the overdue paperwork she still had to wrestle with, when a lone figure at the far table caught her eye.

It wasn’t the soft, brown waves, nor the hazel eyes that drew her attention this time, but the exhausted, almost wretched expression on the younger woman’s face. Without taking the time to ponder her decision, Nicole strode forwards until she was standing next to Waverly and smiled down at her.

‘Morning,’ she greeted, softly so as not to startle her out of her reverie.

Waverly jumped anyway and looked up, eyes wide as though she had been caught doing something embarrassing, or private. ‘Oh, er – good morning, officer.’

‘Please, just call me Nicole.’

‘Okay…Nicole.’ A small, tired smile ghosted across her lips. ‘Um, please, join me if you like.’

Nicole didn’t need to be asked twice. Paperwork be damned: it would still be there in half an hour. She watched as Waverly took a sip of her drink, her eyes fixed on the table. The younger Earp sitting in front of Nicole right now was not the one she was used to seeing laughing and beaming behind the bar at _Shorty’s_ ; this one worried her, with her ashen face and nervous fingers that grasped and released the handle of her mug in a maddening pattern.

‘Maybe it’s not my place to ask,’ Nicole began slowly, ‘but is everything okay?’

Almost instantaneously, tears sprung to Waverly’s eyes and she rubbed the back of her sleeve across her face, attempting to muffle the loud sniffle with her arm.

‘I-it’s nothing,’ she stuttered. ‘Just…a bad night is all.’

Nicole didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. It wasn’t her place to pry. Waiting patiently for Waverly to regain her composure and decide whether she wanted to elaborate, she lifted her own paper cup to her lips and swallowed a mouthful of much-needed caffeine. Whether it was this or her concern for the woman in front of her that had finally galvanised her, she couldn’t be bothered to fathom.

Eventually, Waverly sucked in a deep breath, exhaled, and offered a genuine, warm smile. ‘Sorry,’ she said, nervous laughter rippling up her throat. ‘I’m good, thank you. It’s just…Wynonna returning has brought back some painful memories that we both wish we could bury.’

‘Wynonna is…your sister, yes? The woman from yesterday?’

Waverly nodded. ‘My older sister. Well, one of them.’

An array of different emotions flashed across her face so quickly that Nicole couldn’t latch onto them, couldn’t discern one from the other, before Waverly’s expression became guarded again.

‘I heard she hadn’t been back for three years,’ Nicole murmured, keeping her voice low so that only the woman in front of her could hear. ‘That must have been hard.’

Waverly shrugged, looking out of the window as she took another sip of her drink. ‘It wasn’t the first time Wynonna disappeared,’ she said, almost matter-of-factly – _almost_ hiding her hurt, her bitterness. But Nicole was a police officer, and a damn good one at that; she perceived the nuances that others overlooked. ‘I got used to her being gone, to only hearing from her once in a blue moon. To have her suddenly show up after so long was… _is_ hard.’

Nicole watched as she blinked rapidly, as though only just realising that she was divulging some very personal feelings to someone she hardly knew. Waverly took a rather large gulp of her coffee this time, peering over the rim of the mug to glance at Nicole, seeming to gauge her reaction.

‘Hey, we all have family drama, am I right?’ Nicole replied, tone light, trying to put the brunette at ease. ‘For what it’s worth, it’s obvious even to an outsider like me that she cares for you. A lot.’

Waverly nodded, almost absent-mindedly as she ran one finger around the rim of her mug. ‘I know. But the past...’ She shook her head slightly, as if trying to banish painful memories. Nicole had heard whispers of the Earps’ troubled history since she had arrived in Purgatory but had paid them little heed; it wasn’t her place to judge nor pry. ‘I won’t bore you with the details, but we didn’t exactly have your typical white-picket fence, sunshine-and-rainbows childhood.’

Nicole chuckled, more to herself than to Waverly, but her words were inadvertently sour as she murmured, ‘Who does?’

The briefest of frowns creased the brunette’s brow as she looked at the redhead, hazel eyes fixing her with a curious gaze as though trying to decipher her response. Nicole cleared her throat and quickly drained the rest of her drink to distract herself from the intensity of the other woman’s scrutiny. In doing so, she missed the slight movement of Waverly’s hand across the table, as though to reach out towards Nicole.

‘Anyway,’ Waverly continued brightly, instantly alleviating the tension that was hovering between the two and tucking her hand back into her lap, ‘how are you finding Purgatory so far? You’ve been here…what, two weeks now?’

Nicole nodded, pleased to be on more stable footing in the conversation once again. ‘Yeah. It’s gone quickly. And I’m enjoying it, overall. I mean, the job can be a little…pedestrian at times, but the locals have been friendly and welcoming so far.’

Of course, she really only cared about _one_ local’s warm welcome – not that she would admit it out loud.

‘I’m glad,’ Waverly replied. ‘I know the town might not seem like much compared to the city, but it has its charms.’

_Oh, it certainly does._ Nicole closed her eyes briefly, reprimanding herself for her inappropriate thoughts, determined to keep her response as neutral as possible.

‘That it does.’

_…Idiot._

God help her, but she couldn’t stop the playful smile that danced across her lips against her will as she locked gazes with the brunette – who, she noted, was now starting to blush furiously. Waverly snatched up her mug and finished the dregs of her (now presumably cold) coffee before almost slamming it down onto the table. Her fingers fumbled with the bag at her side as she clawed out her purse, determinedly not looking at the redhead still smiling at her, nor at the dimples that Nicole knew crinkled the corners of her own lips.

‘I, um, n-need to get back,’ she stammered as she fished out a note and left it on the table as payment for her breakfast. ‘Wynonna, you know…’ She stood up, edging out of the booth with all the grace of a two-legged puppy. ‘It was lovely – er, nice to see you again, Officer Haught.’

And with that she fled the diner, walking as fast as her legs could carry her without breaking into an actual run. Nicole sat there for a few minutes more, the ghost of her smile still lingering.

_There’s something there, all right…_


	9. The Start of Something: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly ponders a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short one this time, looking at Waverly's reaction to the ending of the previous chapter.
> 
> This is the second chapter where I'm a little unsure about a couple of the paragraphs I've written. Again, we'll see how they fall. Any and all feedback/constructive criticism more than welcome!

‘Fudge nuggets,’ Waverly cursed under her breath as she hurried over to her red Jeep as quickly as her shaking legs could manage.

Not only had she just embarrassed herself so spectacularly in front of the town’s newest deputy _yet again_ , but she had made it all the worse by almost literally running away from her, thus compounding the mortification she felt. If her burning cheeks and tongue-tied attempt at a goodbye weren’t enough to tip the redhead off, her fleeing certainly would have done.

_Shit._

The thumping of her heartbeat in her ears, the quick, shallow breaths she sucked in as she threw herself into her car confirmed the one thing she had been trying to ignore for the past few days: she felt a flicker of attraction for Nicole Haught. _Okay, maybe more than a flicker…_

_Shitshitshit._

Waverly rested her arms on the steering wheel and glared at herself in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were unusually bright, the tops of her cheeks still tinged pink, and she knew that neither one had anything to do with the morning chill outside.

Groaning, she leant her forehead against her arms, desperate to claw back some modicum of composure before she even tried to drive home. As much as she endeavoured to keep her mind blank, free from all troubling thoughts, she couldn’t help but pick at the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of her.

Since the time she had developed her first crush at the tender age of twelve (honestly, who _hadn’t_ liked Johnny Depp back then?), she had never once felt anything for another woman – not romantically, at least. Sure, she had objectively admired a girl’s beauty, complimented friends on their new haircuts or fashionable clothing, but beyond that – nothing. Not even when faced with fifteen teenaged girls stripped down to their underwear after cheerleading practice. Nothing stirred; nothing woke within her.

But now…

Waverly had known from the moment she had watched her clamp Kyle York in handcuffs and march him through the momentarily-stunned crowd at _Shorty’s_ that there was something different about Nicole Haught. Her confidence, her swagger in that uniform (the one Waverly had always been indifferent to…until now), the gallant tipping of her hat whenever they met – all meshed together to form something so irresistible that nobody – _nobody_ – with a pulse and eyes could withstand its allure.

And the look, that smile, those words she had uttered that had sent the blood rushing to Waverly’s cheeks mere minutes ago, that had made her heart race and her breath hitch in her throat…

It was then that she knew for sure what she had only guessed at before: Nicole liked women. Or, at least, she seemed to like Waverly. That in itself was overwhelming enough; the quaint, old-fashioned town of Purgatory had never housed a gay resident before. Not to anyone’s knowledge, at any rate. It frightened her. What would the locals say? What would they _do_ if they found out about the redhead’s preferences? Whilst whole swathes of America marched to the tune of modern progress and acceptance, Purgatory rested on its laurels, lounging lazily in the past and pretending that the outside world didn’t exist all that much. Would they so readily accept someone so different? It was unusual enough for the town to have a female deputy, but a _lesbian_ one…?

A sudden, sharp knocking on the driver’s window made Waverly jump so violently that she accidentally punched the horn of her jeep; its loud blare startled her further and she scrambled to compose herself, twisting her head to glower at the intruder. She caught the violent eye roll in time and wound down the window, plastering a smile onto her face as she looked at her boyfriend grinning back at her.

‘Hey, babe,’ he said cheerfully, one hand resting against the side of the vehicle as he leant towards her. ‘What you doing up so early, huh?’

‘Oh, you know,’ she smiled sweetly, willing her heartbeat to slow down, her hands to stop shaking as they gripped the steering wheel. ‘Just needed to get out of the house, grab some breakfast.’

‘Uh huh.’ Champ was still smirking, his eyes roaming over her distinctly dishevelled appearance. ‘So, er…how’s it going? With Wynonna being back and all?’

‘Fine. Just…fine,’ she replied quickly, wishing for all the world that Champ would just disappear so she could avoid the awkward small talk.

But, in true Champ fashion, he completely missed the hints and continued to smile at her. ‘Yeah? That’s good. Tell her, er…you know, I’m sorry. About the other day.’

Waverly swallowed the desire to bite out ‘Which one?’ and simply nodded. ‘Of course, will do.’

Appearing to have exhausted his points of conversation, Champ stood back and rubbed his hands down the sides of his jeans. ‘Well, anyway, I gotta go. Don’t want to keep Curtis waiting, right? I’ll maybe see you at the ranch later?’

Waverly suppressed the groan that rumbled at the back of her throat. Of course, it was a weekday; Champ would be working. On the ranch. Right next to the house to which she was about to return. _Great._ A pang of guilt seared her gut as she registered her own disappointment. Champ was well-meaning – most of the time, anyway. He had no way of knowing just how much she _didn’t_ want him around right then, and it wasn’t entirely fair to him.

Champ’s small cough reminded Waverly that she still hadn’t replied. She quickly looked back at him, her smile a little too wide to be convincing. But then again, Champ Hardy had never been the sharpest tool in the shed.

‘Of course,’ she said brightly. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Waverly watched as her boyfriend of six years sauntered off, whistling to himself, completely and blissfully oblivious to the turmoil currently seething inside of her. Breathing in deeply to calm herself, she finally turned the key in the ignition and began the short journey back home, with only her confused thoughts to keep her company.


	10. The Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the drama begins...

The soft smile never left Nicole’s lips as she drove to the station and pulled up outside. She sat for a few moments more in the silence of the cruiser, staring out of the windscreen without even registering anything in her vision.

Surely – _surely_ – there was no denying it. Surely, she wasn’t the only one who had sensed something between them? Waverly’s near-singed cheeks and adorably stuttered goodbye suggested otherwise.

Nicole forced herself to suck in a deep breath, inhaling through her nose and pushing the air back out through her lips. She couldn’t afford to make assumptions. Waverly could simply have been embarrassed, after all. Her fleeing the diner may just as easily be construed as an attempt to escape an awkward moment that she did not want to prolong. No, Nicole would try – hard as it was – not to read into it any deeper than she already had. She had work to do, after all. Even if it was only aiding Mrs. Johnson in rescuing her stubborn cat from her garden tree _yet again_.

Minutes later, she was striding through the double doors of the police station, heading straight for her desk and eyeing the stack of paperwork with equal amounts of disdain and determination. She _would_ make a dent in that pile today, even if it killed her. As if to brace herself for her mammoth task, Nicole rolled up her sleeves and lowered herself into her chair, a steely set to her jaw as she fished up the first folder.

It was as she was grumbling to herself about harsher punishments for the idiot York boys, revelling in concocting all manner of fitting retributions in her mind, that Nedley shuffled out of his office, a grim expression on his tired face.

‘We just got an…unusual call,’ he told her, his voice low, perturbed. There wasn’t a lot that ruffled the Sheriff’s usually stoic disposition, and it was this that concerned Nicole the most. ‘Out on the McCready ranch. Lonnie can stay here and cover.’

Offering no more information than that, Nedley hooked his Stetson off the coat rack next to him and shrugged into his jacket, signalling for Nicole to do the same and to follow him. She did so without hesitation, snatching up the rest of her uniform and hurrying after him to his cruiser.

***

The fifteen minute journey to the ranch was filled with nothing but a contemplative silence, each officer content to keep company with their own thoughts rather than disturb the other with needless noise. Nicole was focused on one question only: what on earth would they find when they arrived? She had only known Nedley for a couple of weeks now and his usual response to callouts was a weary indifference, near-apathy for the trivial matters in which the townsfolk normally indulged themselves. That is, except last week, when the Sheriff had sent her to _Shorty’s_ because he had been on a ‘serious case’ the other side of town. One about which, she now recalled, he had yet to inform her. The realisation drew her eyebrows into a deep frown. Was Nedley hiding things from her? Something bigger than town drunks and mischievous felines?

Nicole wanted to probe further, to raise the callout from the previous week, but just as she opened her mouth to formulate some type of question, Nedley cut across her. ‘We’re here,’ he muttered, eyes trained ahead as he turned the vehicle onto the ranch’s long driveway.

Nicole followed his gaze and found three women huddled together on the porch, mugs of coffee in each of their hands. All of them watched as the car slowed to a halt and both officers stepped out; their dour expressions mirrored Nedley’s as they approached.

‘Gus,’ Nedley offered as a greeting. ‘Waverly…Wynonna.’ Nicole noted the change in tone as he addressed the older Earp and she was reminded of his bitter laugh when Nicole had pointed her out in the bar the other night; clearly, there was some troublesome history between them that she had to learn. ‘Where’s Curtis?’

‘Over by the barn,’ Gus replied, pointing in the necessary direction. ‘Champ Hardy is there, too.’

Nedley simply nodded and gestured for Nicole to follow him; she only had time to register the ribbons of dried tears on Waverly’s cheeks before she was trotting after her superior, wondering just what the hell could have happened to make everyone so sombre. Surely, someone couldn’t have died…

The awful truth was revealed the moment they rounded the door to the barn. What they saw made Nicole recoil instinctively, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as a soft gasp escaped her lips. She felt her stomach roil and had to swallow the urge to retch as the stench smothered her.

‘W-what…’ was all she managed to utter before she had to clamp her mouth shut again.

Both Curtis and Champ turned to face them, wearing matching glum expressions. Nedley simply shook his head as he crouched next to the carnage, careful not to step in the crusted, congealed rivulets of blood and sinew.

‘Gretel, my pride 'n' joy,’ Curtis grunted, his voice thick with repressed emotion as he nodded at the horse’s remains. ‘Some bastard snuck in durin' the night and…did _this_. Found 'er this mornin'.’

‘But… _why_?’ Nicole murmured, taking a step back to distance herself from the gruesome scene, her eyes watering as the cloying odour seemed to condense in the air, attacking every sense like tiny pins stabbing her over and over again.

The furtive glance Curtis shared with Nedley was quick, but Nicole caught it even through her slightly blurred vision. They knew something…

Nedley sighed and pushed himself back into a standing position. ‘The Revenants,’ he said simply as Curtis nodded his agreement.

It did nothing to clear up the confusion fogging Nicole’s mind. ‘The…who?’ she asked, looking between the two men for further explanation.

‘A local gang,’ Nedley continued. ‘They cause trouble from time to time, usually nothing more serious than vandalism and the odd reckless speeding ticket. But sometimes…’

He jerked his thumb down towards the poor animal, as though that completed his unfinished sentence.

‘Sometimes they butcher innocent animals?’ Nicole blurted in disbelief.

‘Well, no, not usually,’ Nedley said slowly. ‘But every once in a while they do something more…drastic. It’s been happening for years.’

Nicole frowned at the tone that infused his words – the one that suggested he had resigned himself to these events and knew they would not be able to change them. ‘And what’s been done about them in the past?’ she questioned. ‘Has their leader been arrested? Jailed?’

Whatever response she was expecting, it was not for both older men to let out a short, sharp snort of laughter at the same time. It seemed almost…patronising. Nicole could feel her fingers curling into fists at her side, her teeth gritted as she gave the Sheriff a pointed look, eyebrows raised.

‘Look, Haught, you’re new here,’ Nedley began, motioning for her to follow him back outside and away from the grim sight. ‘You’ll come to learn that we can’t do _everything_. We can’t catch all the bad guys and punish them, much as we’d like to.’

_What bullshit,_ she thought angrily. _That’s_ exactly _what we should be doing!_ She told Nedley this – in a less expletive-laden manner, of course.

‘You think I _like_ this situation?’ Nedley grunted, running a hand through his thinning grey-speckled hair as he stared down an increasingly frustrated Nicole, his moustache quivering with obvious tension. ‘There’s never enough evidence tying them to these sorts of crimes. We all know they’re responsible, but we can’t _do_ anything about it. As much as I’d love to swoop in and kick every single one of their sorry asses into jail, I can’t. And neither can you.’

That last part was said with renewed force and a meaningful stare as Nedley watched Nicole, the muscle in her jaw twitching and her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides, knuckles white as she tried to suppress her irritation. He waited, unblinking, until she gave a curt nod to show her understanding.

‘Good. Now, you go on over and make sure the women are okay whilst I finish up here.’

Nicole couldn’t pretend she wasn’t relieved not to be walking back into the barn; the stench of death still clung to her, latching onto each strand of hair on her head, every fibre of her uniform. It would be days until she could rid herself of the smell for good. As Nedley trudged back into the barn, Nicole made her slow way over to the women still standing on the porch, watching her intently as she approached. She tried to offer a small smile by way of comfort, but it faded before it even had a chance to take hold.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, looking between each of them in turn. ‘I know this must be difficult for you all right now.’

Wynonna’s nose crinkled in disgust and Nicole took a quick step back, not wanting to overpower them with the reek that accompanied her. Gus, on the other hand, simply stared down at her, eyes hard.

‘So are you finally goin’ to catch the bastards this time?’ she bit out. ‘Or are you goin’ to offer the usual bullshit excuses for why those sadists can’t be given the tannin’ they deserve?’

‘Gus…’ Waverly spoke for the first time, her voice quiet, torso wrapped in a fluffy blanket. ‘That’s not fair. Nicole’s only been here two weeks.’

Gus scoffed and turned away, slumping down on the weathered bench behind her. Waverly glanced at Nicole, an apology in her tired eyes, but it wasn’t necessary: Gus had every right to be angry.

‘Ma’am, I promise you – I will do _everything_ in my power to catch the people who did this and bring them to justice.’

Given Nedley’s earlier confession, she knew that her pledge was a risky, and perhaps empty, one. But the gratitude that shone in Waverly’s eyes, the glimmer of a smile that tugged at her lips, was worth it; if anything, it bolstered Nicole’s drive to succeed. Gus merely nodded and said nothing more. Wynonna, on the other hand, stared long and hard at Nicole, an inscrutable expression on her drawn face. Nicole held her gaze, unblinkingly, determined to persuade all three women of her conviction.

Eventually, Wynonna took a few steps towards her. ‘You’re all right…for a cop,’ she smiled, softening. ‘Haught Shot.’

Nicole grinned back. ‘Heard it before.’

Wynonna snorted and threw her hands up in the air as she spun around to head back into the house. ‘Gus, where do you keep the _really good_ stuff?’ she asked her aunt as she pulled the door open. ‘I know you’re holding out on me.’

‘Wynonna…’ came Gus’ sharp warning as she scuttled after her niece.

It left Nicole and Waverly alone outside. Waverly pulled the blanket tighter, so that it drew taut across her shoulders, and looked everywhere but directly at the redhead. Nicole still kept her distance; the last thing she wanted was for Waverly to associate her with the awful aroma of death forever after this.

‘So…’ she began, wanting more than anything to break the awkward silence that lingered between them, but unsure of what, exactly, to say. ‘Will you be all right?’ She decided sincerity and concern were safe options. ‘This must be hard for you all.’

Waverly finally met her gaze and nodded. ‘Yeah, we’ll – we’ll be fine. It’s just…’ She took a deep breath, as though to fight back more tears. ‘Gretel was special, you know? I helped take care of her when she was born and only ever rode her around the pasture.’ She blinked rapidly, and Nicole could see the moisture welling in her eyes. ‘I feel like…like I’ve lost a friend.’

It took everything Nicole had not to close the distance between them and put a comforting hand on the other woman’s arm; only the knowledge that Waverly would recoil in revulsion saved her. ‘I know what you mean,’ she replied. ‘I used to stay on my uncle’s ranch all the time. Whenever we lost a chicken or a cow, it was heartbreaking. They’re family.’

Waverly nodded sadly, her gaze flitting to the barn every so often. She attempted to wrap the blanket around her impossibly tighter and shivered – Nicole suspected it had more to do with the shock than the cold, though.

‘Why don’t you get back inside, where it’s warm?’ she said gently, inching closer. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock. A warm cup of cocoa and a rest will do you good.’

Waverly looked at her then, eyes soft, saying nothing, holding her gaze for a long moment. Nicole could almost _see_ the thoughts whirling through her mind, could see her piecing together some puzzle, the fragments of which only she could picture.

It was as the brunette opened her mouth to finally speak that a shout rang out through the cool morning air, making both women jump with its volume. In unison, they turned to find Champ sauntering over to them. Nicole hid the roll of her eyes by twisting her head back and – was it her imagination, or was there disappointment written on Waverly’s face, too? She certainly didn’t look _pleased_ , at the very least.

‘Hey babe,’ Hardy growled, enveloping his girlfriend in a tight embrace and peppering her cheek with rough kisses.

Clearly, _he_ had no qualms about tainting Waverly with the awful odour from the barn. Waverly appeared to have the same thought, for she quickly extricated herself from Champ’s arms and pushed him backwards.

‘You need to take a shower,’ she said, her nose wrinkling in disgust in the exact same way her sister’s had earlier. ‘You stink.’

Champ made a show of smelling his armpits before shrugging. ‘All right. I’ll use yours, yeah?’

He didn’t even wait for affirmation before strolling towards the house, whistling out of tune as he plunged his hands into his pocket. This time, Nicole couldn’t conceal her distaste for his entirely inappropriate demeanour given the situation. Was he really _so_ completely oblivious?

‘I should go, too,’ Waverly said, facing Nicole again. ‘I think a cup of cocoa and a lie down sounds perfect right about now.’

And though she was clearly exhausted, in pain, and irritated by her boyfriend’s complete misreading of the circumstances, Waverly smiled – a genuine, warm smile of thanks for Nicole’s concern – and Nicole couldn’t help but reciprocate it.

The truth hit her like a sucker punch to the stomach: hard, winding her with its force. 

_Dammit._

Nicole knew, right then and there, at that very moment: she was in real danger of becoming very much infatuated with the brunette standing before her, swathed in her fluffy blanket like an endearing human burrito. It was with a tinge of relief that she watched the younger Earp offer a quick wave of her hand before hurrying back to the house.

Yet it was with even heavier regret that she returned to the cruiser to await Nedley, her mind a tangle of thoughts and feelings that she would need more than one restless night and a conversation with a spider to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of right now, I only have one more chapter written (been uploading far more quickly than I should have because I'm just so damn impatient!) I'm also back at work from Monday and have a lot to get ready before then, so updates will likely slow down from now on. I can only apologise for breaking the pattern, but I promise they will keep coming!


	11. The End of Something Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly comes to an important realisation and begins to wrestle with an even more important decision.

Waverly hunched further into the duvet, snuggling down into its warmth as she tapped away at her laptop, fingers working furiously over the keyboard. She _would_ make herself useful this time. Too many times, she had been locked in the dark about the full extent of the problems that ran through family like a fault line; too many times, people had tried to ‘protect’ her, as though she was a fragile little creature that would break at the merest hint of upset.

Well, no more.

This time, _she_ would be the one to help dig themselves out of the shithole of a situation in which they now found themselves. The police may not really be able to pin the crime on the infamous Revenant gang, but with a little bit of research and a _lot_ of perseverance, she could help point them in the right direction. Unbeknownst to anyone else, she had been compiling a whole wealth of facts and information about Purgatory over the past two years: its general history, residents, news clippings of _that_ night sixteen years ago…

And an awful lot of snippets about the rise of the Revenant gang and their crime-ridden past, including their de-facto leaders over the decades. For a reason even she couldn’t put her finger on, Waverly had been obsessively collating material such as this over many months. She liked to pretend it was so that, one day, she could use her fascination with all things historical to write a book about the town’s illustrious past and not-so-infamous present, but she knew that wasn’t it. Rather than dwelling on the issue, though, she simply did what she did best: read and researched.

Waverly was still completely consumed by her efforts, flitting between different tabs with deft fingers and scribbling hasty notes, when her bedroom door was thrust open; Champ stood in the doorway, framed by its peeling supports, a grin on his face once more. Wasting no time, he bounded over to the bed and flung himself down beside his girlfriend, scattering Waverly’s documents across the floor.

‘Champ,’ she sighed, slamming her laptop shut and moving to collect the sheaves into a neat pile.

But Champ had other ideas; he clutched her wrist and pulled her into his lap, burying his face in her hair. ‘Come on, switch that big brain of yours off for once,’ he crooned. ‘Let’s spend some quality time together. I smell better now, right? No more horse guts.’

Waverly shoved him so hard then that he almost tumbled backwards off the bed. She shot up and leapt off the bed, glaring down at him with barely suppressed fury shaking every fibre of her petite frame.

‘What the hell?’ Champ said, wide eyes taking in the ball of rage that was his girlfriend quivering before him. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘You,’ Waverly began, voice trembling, breathing ragged, ‘are _unbelievable_. You have _no_ fucking clue, do you?’

If the ominous lilt of her voice hadn’t stunned him, the rarely-uttered expletive certainly did.

‘Babe, what – why are you so angry?’

Waverly just shook her head and paced away from him, muttering under her breath and running her hand through her hair. To anyone with an ounce of perception, she was a mass of agitation and cold fire, one that would be reckless to cross. To Champ Hardy, however – well, he really never had been the sharpest tool…

‘I don’t get – ’ he began dumbly, but Waverly had just about had enough.

‘You just don’t give a _shit_ , do you?’ she spat, pinning him to the bed with eyes that seethed with wrath. ‘Not about anyone except yourself. You know, I could handle you hitting on other girls when you were drunk - even my own sister! I could even tolerate your lecherous behaviour with me when you had too much. But you have _zero_ compassion when it matters. And it took me _this long_ to realise.’ She laughed then, a huffed laugh replete with both bitterness and relief all at once. ‘We’re _done_ , Champ. We’re over. I’ve – I’ve outgrown you.’ Her eyes widened as the realisation sunk in. ‘ _Finally_.’

Rather than wait for her bewildered boyfriend to move, Waverly stormed out of her own bedroom and stomped down the stairs; this time, she needed something stronger than cocoa to calm her frayed nerves. Rounding the corner to the kitchen, she found Gus and Wynonna standing there, both wearing the same impressed grin.

‘Well, it’s about fucking time,’ Wynonna cried, striding over to envelop her sister in a tight hug.

‘You…you both heard that?’ Waverly squeaked, her anger evaporating instantly and mortification slipping into its void.

‘Yes, and it was _glorious_.’

In spite of everything, Waverly couldn’t help but chuckle along with her. After six years, she was finally free of the millstone that had been weighing her down, the one that kept her chained to her dull routine, her unfulfilling lifestyle. She knew that there was a small part of her that should feel just the tiniest bit guilty, but she didn’t have it in her. Not even when Champ finally slunk down the stairs, shamefaced and baffled. Not even when Wynonna gleefully called out ‘See ya later, Chump Horny!’ to his retreating back. So immense was the feeling of release that she could focus on nothing else.

‘So, what now?’ she breathed, giddy with the liberty she had gifted herself.

Wynonna’s lips pulled up into a mischievous smirk, eyes glinting with the beginning of a truly terrible idea, one that Waverly was sure she would regret come the morning. ‘Now, baby girl – _now_ we celebrate.’

***

It had felt almost disrespectful to laugh and make merry given what had happened that very morning. But when Curtis finally returned and had eagerly joined them – after Wynonna had regaled him with the happy news in her most excited of voices – all of Waverly’s reservations had disappeared.

They needed this. It was about more than her finally jilting Champ Hardy; this celebration was for all of them. For Curtis and his near-miss weeks before, his slow recovery since. For Wynonna and her return, their mixed feelings about it gradually dissolving the longer she stayed around. For the family unit that they were, and could become.

Yes, it felt wrong to be so joyful right then, but none of them cared. Waverly didn’t reprimand Wynonna for drinking before noon; Gus didn’t even protest when the middle Earp somehow managed to locate her super-secret, super-special bottle of whiskey and cracked it open, pouring everyone else a shot as she swigged straight from the bottle. Perhaps she was amenable to the idea of Wynonna hanging around, after all. They all needed to believe in a brighter future for themselves right then.

It was well into the afternoon when Gus, slightly glassy-eyed as she topped up her fourth or fifth - by this time they had all stopped counting - glass of whiskey, fixed both sisters with a serious look that was completely at odds with the earlier party mood.

‘We need to talk,’ she said, motioning for them to sit down on the couch opposite her.

‘Okay, I’m sorry,’ Wynonna began, hiding the rest of the whiskey bottle behind her back. ‘I should have asked to open the bottle. I’ll replace it…eventually.’

‘Wynonna, please,’ Gus continued, more firmly now. Something in her tone made Wynonna realise that now wasn’t the time to be joking around and she slumped into the seat next to her sister, both looking at their aunt expectantly. ‘Now, I’ve been thinkin' about this for the past couple weeks, and this mornin’ just settled it.’ She sighed deeply, as though steeling herself for her next words. ‘I think it’s time you two moved out.’

Waverly felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Hard. She exhaled a sharp breath. What on earth had brought this on? Why _now_ , of all times?

‘Sorry, what?’ Wynonna asked, blinking her confusion.

‘Before you start,’ Gus continued, looking particularly at her younger niece, apparently sensing the doubt creeping up on Waverly, ‘this isn’t about you two, personally. I love you – both of you' - this time she glanced at Wynonna - 'and I love havin’ you here with us. Brings a bit of spark to mine and Curtis’ lives.’

‘So…why are you kicking us out, then?’

Waverly would have rolled her eyes at her sister’s usual lack of tact, but she was desperate to know, too. It felt like…rejection. All over again. The latest in a long line.

‘We’re not _kicking you out_ ,’ Gus sighed. ‘This place isn’t exactly the biggest, and you girls deserve some space of your own. You’re grown-ass women, and you should live like it.’ Her words sounded hard, but her eyes were soft as she gazed between the Earp sisters. ‘Curtis and I have both agreed – we were goin’ to sell our share in _Shorty’s_ soon anyhow. We’ll have enough to retire comf'tably, and also to help you two get on your feet. Assumin',’ she continued, with a pointed look at Wynonna, ‘that you intend to stick about this time.’

For once, Wynonna didn’t appear to have a witty comeback. She glanced up at Waverly for the briefest of moments before nodding at her aunt. Waverly felt her heart swell in her chest at the gesture. _Wynonna’s staying…_

‘Okay then,’ Gus continued, smiling for the first time at the pair. ‘Then you need a place to stay. And we were thinkin'…’ Here Curtis came to stand behind her and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. ‘Why not fix up the ol’ homestead?’

Neither sister spoke. Waverly knew, without even looking at Wynonna, that they were both thinking about the same thing: the other night, the raw emotions that still burned deep within, emotions that they would never truly abate because the wounds would never truly heal. The thought of returning to the place that held the most painful memories of their lives was not an appealing prospect, to say the least.

Still, it would give them a place to live together, to re-connect alone, away from the constant arguments between Wynonna and Gus. And Waverly _had_ always wanted to live in her own place…

‘I don’t get it,’ Wynonna said blankly, abandoning all pretence and taking a long dram of whiskey. ‘Why there? The place can burn for all the shits I give about it.’

‘Now, Wynonna,’ Gus sighed, ‘I know you both went through some terrible times there, but – it’s your fam’ly home. You have some good mem’ries there, too.’

Waverly swallowed her retort, keeping her expression as impassive as she could manage. Truthfully, she couldn’t remember a single truly happy memory from her time living on the homestead; even the ones suffused with her mama’s adoration were tangled up with the comparative indifference of her father, with Willa’s persistent torment, with the isolation and loneliness only the youngest of three siblings, six years their junior, could feel.

‘You don’t have to give an answer straight up,’ Gus added, obviously sensing their reluctance. ‘Just…think about it. Talk it over.’

When she had kicked Champ to the curb just hours earlier, the last thing Waverly expected was an offer such as this to come hot on its heels. She nodded slowly at Gus, a silent promise that, whatever her feelings right now, she _would_ consider the suggestion seriously. Living alone with Wynonna in the place they had once called home…

What could possibly go wrong?


	12. The Friendship Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole and Waverly finally strike up a formal friendship.

It would be an understatement to say that Nicole was surprised to find Waverly Earp sitting in the same booth in the diner the following morning as she arrived to fetch her regular breakfast order. Thanking Hetty with her usual smile, she wandered over to the younger woman and touched her hat in greeting.

‘We’ve got to stop running into each other like this,’ she grinned.

Waverly looked up and returned the warm greeting, gesturing for the redhead to join her. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she began, gripping the mug of coffee as though trying to leach it of its warmth. ‘I actually came here early in the hopes of seeing you.’ She glanced up at Nicole, then back down at her coffee, before returning her gaze once more. ‘I wanted to thank you – you know, for yesterday.’

Nicole’s brow wrinkled as she considered Waverly’s words. ‘There’s really no need,’ she said, waving a dismissive hand. ‘I was just – ’

‘No, you weren’t _just doing your job_ ,’ Waverly cut in, anticipating the redhead’s response. ‘You did so much more than that. You probably don’t realise, but that sort of nonsense has been happening for _years_ , and the police have never been able to do anything about it.’ Her eyes were shining brightly, remnants of the previous day’s stormy emotions still whirling there. ‘But you…you cared. You gave us some hope. You don’t know how much that meant to us.’

Nicole rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, massaging the tense muscles there. How could she possibly admit that she had _no_ idea how to follow through on such a reckless promise? Waverly looked so damn grateful for what she had said; it would surely crush her spirit and destroy any chance of a proper friendship developing between the two of them. _Perhaps even more than that._ And yet Nicole found that she couldn’t lie to her. She deserved better than that.

‘Waverly, I…’ Nicole started, but her mind refused to formulate the rest of the sentence. She tried again, ‘What I said…’

Suddenly, Waverly’s hand darted across the table, small, lightly-tanned fingers grasping Nicole’s and squeezing. ‘I know you might not be able to live up to your vow,’ she said quickly, correctly guessing Nicole’s dilemma. ‘But the fact that you made it, that you promised to _try_ – it makes a difference, you know. We – _I_ appreciate it. More than you know.’

Staring vacantly down at the brunette’s hand still clutching hers, Nicole simply nodded. She was painfully aware of the blood throbbing in her ears, of the steadily increasing tempo of her heartbeat, and was trying to will some composure to return before she dared to speak again.

Having no idea what on earth to say in response to such open honesty and kindness, she instead settled for her usual earnest concern. ‘How are you holding up after yesterday?’ she asked, raising her paper cup to her lips with her free hand.

It didn’t escape her notice that Waverly allowed her own hand to linger a few moments longer before returning it to her side of the table.

‘As well as can be expected,’ Waverly replied. ‘A lot happened after you and Nedley left yesterday. It was…crazy, to say the least.’

The initial awkwardness – at least on Nicole’s part – finally dissipating, they slipped into easy conversation, Waverly asking Nicole again about settling into Purgatory and Nicole regaling her with the comical last callout for Mrs. Johnson’s cat, Macavity. The thin, red ribbons that ran up her right arm told of her struggle with the grumpy feline, and yet she couldn’t help but wonder whether she should get her own pet, too. Having only Maria for company was proving unfulfilling as far as reciprocated affection went (she, of course, kept _that_ tidbit to herself).

Every so often Nicole would be struck with how effortless it was to talk to Waverly, how quickly their conversations diverted down other avenues, each woman picking up the thread of the other’s thoughts and continuing the dialogue with ease. It was only once they had both finished their second mugs of coffee that Nicole suddenly remembered the time and shot up, panic flooding her stomach like a sheet of ice.

‘I’ve got to go,’ she muttered, snatching up her coat and Stetson. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve just realised I’m late for work.’

‘Oh!’ Waverly gasped, standing. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you! Tell Nedley it’s my fault.’

‘No, it’s okay. It’s only the first time. I’m sure the boss’ll let me off with a warning this time,’ Nicole chuckled, secretly hoping that she was right. ‘I enjoyed our chat, though. We should…do it again some time.’

Flashing a quick smile and touching the brim of her hat once more, she strode out of the diner, warmed by the caffeine and the conversation and the picture of Waverly Earp beaming at her as she had said her hurried goodbye.

***

As it turned out, Nicole didn’t have to wait long to repeat the meeting with ‘Purgatory’s Nicest Resident’. Every morning for the next week, when she arrived at the diner at precisely seven o’clock to fetch her breakfast, there was Waverly Earp: sitting in the same booth, wearing the same satisfied smile, and nursing her first coffee of the morning. And every morning, Nicole would join her.

It had taken until the third morning for her to realise that Hetty had silently switched her coffee order from a paper cup to a sit-in mug.

And it was on the seventh morning that Waverly finally mentioned her aunt’s proposition to fix up the homestead. Nicole still didn’t know exactly what horrors Waverly’s past held, but she had perceived enough to understand that the brunette’s old home was a source of great sorrow.

‘And she thinks both you and Wynonna should live there?’ she asked after swallowing her last mouthful of pastry and washing it down with the dregs of her coffee. ‘Just the two of you alone?’

‘Mmhmm,’ Waverly nodded.

‘But you…don’t want to.’

It wasn’t exactly a question; Waverly’s reluctance was blindingly obvious, even if Nicole hadn’t been such an observant police officer who chased clues for a living.

‘I’m…not sure,’ Waverly admitted. She was running her finger round the rim of her mug, a tic Nicole had learned signified that she was deep in thought. ‘I mean, I can’t go back to the place without thinking about everything we went through there. But a part of me _wants_ to go back and try to make it a home again. Somewhere we could be safe and happy together.’ She groaned and hung her head. ‘Is that stupid?’

‘No, of course not!’ Nicole said, perhaps a little too quickly. Just as Waverly had done for her before, she reached across the table and grasped the younger woman’s hand in her own. ‘It’s not stupid at all. It’s…endearing, actually.’

Well, that wasn’t _quite_ what she had planned to say. Nicole froze, slender fingers still clutching Waverly’s hand, waiting for her reaction. Waverly simply raised her gaze to Nicole’s, eyes flitting across her face, seeming to search for something there – an answer to some unspoken question, or maybe reassurance about Nicole’s support?

She couldn’t tell.

She wished she could.

Nicole opened her mouth to say something – _anything_ – to break the sudden silence, but the jingle of the bell beat her to it. Assuming it was just another local with a desire for a caffeine hit, she ignored it and continued to look at Waverly. It was only when the brunette’s expression hardened and her eyes narrowed that Nicole realised something was wrong. Twisting in her seat, she turned to find Champ Hardy standing there, staring at the two women blankly. She could feel her eyes begin to roll, almost of their own accord, before she forced herself to face Waverly again. Wasting any more time on Hardy was not on her agenda for today.

It was then that she noticed she had not removed her hand from Waverly’s and quickly snatched it back as though the contact had burned her. She barely had time to register the flicker of surprise that flashed across the brunette’s face before she heard the thud of boots approaching the table.

‘Champ,’ Waverly muttered, voice a steely monotone.

‘Hey, babe,’ he returned, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered a sheepish smile. ‘Er…how are you?’

Nicole almost did a double-take at that; she blinked rapidly, determined not to look up. Was Champ Hardy actually trying to show some _empathy_?

_Maybe pigs will fly, after all._

‘Fine,’ Waverly responded in a clipped tone, voice reminiscent of sharp knives and protective armour.

‘Good…good.’ Nicole swore she _heard_ Champ swallow before he continued. ‘So, erm…can we talk?’

‘We have nothing to talk about, Champ.’

‘Come on, Waves.’ He was pleading now, a desperate note hemming his voice. ‘We can’t just…this can’t be it.’

Nicole sat as still as she possibly could, a human statue, trying not to draw attention to her presence. This was obviously a _very_ personal conversation that she had no business overhearing. _Too late for that…_

Waverly huffed out a sigh and folded her arms across her chest. ‘I don’t have anything else to say to you. I’m sorry, but that’s it.’

Nicole was doing her absolute best to shrink into the seat and become invisible, but she could almost _feel_ Champ’s bewildered eyes boring into the side of her face then, as though trying to fathom what she was doing there. Her fleeting glance up at him revealed a deeply furrowed brow and a clenched jaw, his gaze fixed on her as a vein throbbed somewhere near his right temple.

‘You seem to be spending a lot of time around my girl,’ he muttered darkly, so that only the two women could hear him.

‘Champ!’ Waverly hissed, jumping to her feet. ‘You need to leave. _Now_.’

It was a good thing Waverly had cut in, because a scathing retort – something about Waverly not belonging to _anyone_ , least of all a man-child like Hardy – had bubbled up within Nicole, threatening to spill out in front of the entire diner. With her fists clenched in her lap, she watched Champ grunt something unintelligible and storm out of the diner, the bell jangling madly behind him. Waverly slumped back down into her seat and shook her head, her chest heaving with the deep breaths she was attempting to suck in.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘You shouldn’t have had to witness that.’

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Nicole said, working to keep her tone light despite the contempt churning in her stomach.

Waverly shook her head even more vigorously. ‘No, nothing like that,’ she replied. ‘We broke up.’

It took some time for the words to string themselves together in Nicole’s mind, for her brain to sequence them so that she could fully comprehend what Waverly had said. She blinked slowly, aware that the brunette was watching her the entire time.

‘Oh.’

_Say something else!_ her brain screeched as she stared back. _Don’t be so damn useless!_

But, alas, as with all inept lovers across history, Nicole could not think of a single witty or comforting comeback. Gone were her usual cool composure and honeyed moves in what was, she instinctively knew, her hour of need.

‘Yeah.’ Waverly’s response saved Nicole further embarrassment. ‘I finally accepted what a douche canoe he was.’

Whether it was the completely ridiculous image that those words conjured in her mind or Waverly’s charming giggle as she said them, Nicole wasn’t sure, but she found herself grinning so broadly that her cheeks hurt. Gone was the momentary mortification at her inability to form simple sentences, replaced with a joy that permeated her entire body; she could feel her fingers and legs tingling, a warmth trickling down her spine and spreading to every extremity as she gazed at the young woman before her.

Yep, she was smitten. There were no two ways about it.

Rather than deny what was so patently obvious to anyone with even partial sight, Nicole simply accepted the inevitable. She would figure out what to do about it later when she had time to process it fully. For now, she was satisfied simply to bask in the glow of such contentment. The issue of dealing with such feelings would be left for future Nicole to grapple with.

After leaving enough money to cover their breakfasts and a generous tip for Hetty (it was Nicole’s turn this morning according to the unspoken agreement Waverly and she had come to over the past week), they left the diner: Nicole to head to the station as usual, and Waverly to return home before her shift at _Shorty’s_ later in the day.

They hadn’t made it three steps across the threshold before a loud voice accosted them from further down the street. ‘ _There_ you are!’

Both women turned in unison to find Wynonna marching towards them; Nicole hadn’t seen her since the morning on the ranch, yet she looked surprisingly good-humoured considering recent events.

‘So, is this where you’ve been disappearing to every morning?’ Wynonna asked, eyeing her sister.

Waverly scoffed. ‘You’re never out of bed before I get back. How did you even know I was gone?’

‘Gus told me you’d been up and out early every morning,’ Wynonna shrugged. ‘Your little escapades haven’t gone unnoticed.’

As she said this, she glanced at Nicole; the softest of creases furrowed her brow as she looked over the deputy. Nicole could feel her cheeks reddening under the older Earp’s scrutiny and coughed, dropping her eyes to study the pavement.

‘ _Escapades_?’ Waverly snorted. ‘I was getting breakfast. You know, that thing people eat when they manage to crawl out of bed before noon?’

Her sister hummed her skeptical response, her lips puckered as her eyes darted between the two women. ‘Anyway, we need to go,’ she continued, shedding her suspicion and focusing solely on Waverly.

‘Er, okay?’ Waverly cocked an eyebrow. ‘Where, exactly?’

‘The homestead.’

Wynonna spun on her heel and was striding down the street, blissfully unaware that her sister had not followed.

‘Wait, Wynonna,’ Waverly called out. ‘What are you talking about?’

The older Earp stopped, wheeled back around, and sighed dramatically; the look on her face suggested the answer to that question should be abundantly clear. ‘We’re going to fix it up, remember? It’s going to take frickin’ ages, so we better get a move on.’

Still Waverly did not move. ‘Since _when_ did we decide this? I thought you hated the idea.’

‘I had an epiphany last night,’ Wynonna joked.

‘Was this before or after you downed half of Curtis’ new whiskey?’

Nicole stood there, motionless and silent, listening to the back-and-forth between the Earp sisters with no small amount of amusement. She felt suddenly wistful about her own childhood, growing up with no siblings and becoming more accustomed to her own company as the years had slipped by, largely unnoticed by her parents.

Wynonna pulled a face, though Nicole could see the playful smirk she tried to hide. ‘Before, after, whatever. Are you coming?’

‘Um, just the two of us? Doing up the whole homestead?’

Her sister rolled her eyes at the sheer naivety of the question. ‘Of course not, dummy. Curtis is lending us his hunky ranch boys for the week.’

‘Okay, just _when_ did you sort this out with Curtis?’ Waverly asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. ‘And why wasn’t _I_ part of that discussion?’

‘Baby girl, I love you,’ Wynonna sighed, ‘but I am seriously about to ditch your cute little butt here and now if you don’t shut up and get it in gear.’

Waverly seemed torn between acquiescing and continuing her interrogation. Eventually, with an audible groan, she settled for the former and turned to smile at Nicole.

‘I’ll, um, see you the same time tomorrow morning?’

‘Of course,’ Nicole replied, her reciprocal half-smile tugging one corner of her lips up. ‘Wouldn’t miss it. Oh, and if you need, you know, any help on the homestead, I’d be happy to come around after my shifts end this this week?’

Waverly nodded appreciatively and opened her mouth to respond, but her sister beat her to it: ‘That’s mighty kind of you, Deputy Haught Damn,’ she smirked, doing her best impression of a southern drawl. Nicole shook her head at her and made to retort, but - ‘Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’ve _heard it before_. Ugh.’

Apparently disgusted with her own lack of originality, Wynonna stalked off down the street. This time, Waverly did follow, throwing a grin and a wave over her shoulder at Nicole before disappearing around the corner. Nicole slid into the driver’s seat of her cruiser, mind overflowing with thoughts of spending even more time with the most intriguing resident Purgatory had to offer.


	13. The Fixer-Upper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole helps the Earp sisters restore their childhood home and is afforded a glimpse into some...revealing aspects of Waverly's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, no lie: this chapter is mostly just a fluff-filled cliché, but I couldn't resist. I also switch perspectives throughout the chapter this time, so we get to see the events from both points of view.

The sun was already dipping below the distant treetops when Waverly stepped out onto the homestead’s porch later that week, limbs aching with exhaustion, hair looking almost windswept despite the lack of a breeze, and thick dust smeared across her right cheek and forehead. Breathing a weary sigh, she sank down onto the step and leant her head against the wooden post beside her; she could feel her eyes drooping, struggling with the effort to keep them open as the melody of a nearby birdsong lulled her into a welcome doze.

Lazy thoughts drifted through her mind, images of the week’s hard work ( _Understatement_ ) and all of its ups-and-downs: the initial, painful sorting of the various broken pieces of furniture, ragged and faded fabrics, childhood mementos lurking in every corner of the house. Waverly had cried when she had tried to throw out one of her favourite books – the one that mama had always read to her before bedtime – due to the irreparable water damage; Wynonna, however, appeared to have no qualms about gutting the entire building and tossing the majority of their family’s keepsakes into the back of the different pickups that the ranch-hands had driven. The older Earp’s expression was stony whenever she picked up a torn teddy bear or smashed photo frame and flung them onto the discard pile, her jaw set as she refused to utter a single word. Yet, Waverly knew it hurt her sister just as much as it did her, finally exorcising the ghosts that had haunted them for the past sixteen years as they disembowelled the guts of their childhood home, one woodworm-gnawed chair at a time.

Today was the first time she had truly begun to envisage their lives together in the old building as they carted in their belongings – some old, but most of it bought especially for the fresh start. Waverly, predictably, had far more possessions than Wynonna, who lived out of the two suitcases she had hauled back from Greece. Now, if only she could muster up the energy to make the short walk over to her red jeep to collect the boxes labelled ‘Waves’ Bedroom’ and carry them upstairs…

Just as she forced herself to her feet, ready to begin the last task of the day, she heard the sounds of a familiar vehicle rolling up the short drive to the house. Glancing up, she saw Nicole’s police car lurching to a halt, the driver’s door swinging open and the redhead herself stepping out. An involuntary grin broke out on Waverly’s face and she waved to her new friend. Seeing Nicole always made Waverly feel infinitely better, whatever else she had going on in her life; the charming redhead was a steadying presence in her now-tumultuous life, an anchor that grounded her whenever the troubled tide threatened to sweep her away.

‘You made it,’ she said once Nicole was within earshot. ‘I didn’t think you would tonight.’

‘Of course I did,’ Nicole smiled. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late, though. Had to go back home and shower after one of the callouts we had today.’

It was on the tip of Waverly’s tongue to ask just what sort of callout would require a shower after work, but her attention was diverted as she studied Nicole’s appearance: sun-dappled copper hair tied into a loose ponytail; blue plaid lumberjack shirt wrapped tightly over a white polo, sleeves rolled up to just above the elbows; baggy, beige cargo shorts; and what looked like Timberland boots. Every evening so far this week, Nicole had shown up to assist them with ‘Operation: Fix All The Shit’ (Wynonna’s suggestion), regardless of the time she clocked off work or how weary and fatigued she seemed after the day’s toil. And every evening, Waverly had been greeted with the sight of a different casual outfit, giving her the minutest of insights into the tastes of the town’s newest deputy. It was something she had unwittingly started to document – in her mind only, of course. Tonight’s look was certainly the best one so far…

‘So, er, what’s the plan for this evening?’ Nicole asked with a small cough.

Waverly snapped her eyes back up to Nicole’s, suddenly acutely aware that she had allowed her gaze to roam the length of the redhead’s figure – very, _very_ obviously. She tried to hide the spreading warmth that tinged her cheeks by rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping away some of the dirt and sweat that caked it.

‘Oh, you’ve got…’ Nicole ran a thumb over her right cheek, indicating the other dust streak. ‘Some dirt.’ Misinterpreting Nicole’s gesture, Waverly rubbed her left cheek, smearing more muck across her already filthy face; Nicole chuckled. ‘No, not there, it’s – ’

As though on instinct, she reached out and swiped the pad of her thumb across Waverly’s right cheek, gently scrubbing the grime away. The light touch almost startled Waverly, but she focused on the slightly calloused finger as it swept over her face, her throat suddenly parched – though not, she realised with a jolt, from the dust clouds that had blanketed every inch of the homestead. She could feel every beat of her heart in her throat, could hear it thrumming in her ear as she inadvertently held her breath.

‘There,’ Nicole said brightly, blissfully unaware of the effect of her actions on the brunette standing before her. ‘Looks like you’ve had a busy day.’

‘Er, yeah, it sure has been!’ Waverly replied, her voice unnaturally high, even for her. She cleared her throat. ‘Um, anyway. I was just about to take up some of my boxes to my bedroom, so…’

Motioning to the red jeep, she began to stride over to it, her breathing too deep and too uneven to attribute safely to the short walk. She didn’t trust her voice at that moment, so she said nothing, instead unlocking the vehicle and hauling one of the boxes off the back seat.

‘Here, let me,’ Nicole offered, lifting the heavy load from Waverly as she watched her attempt to juggle it in her arms. ‘Are the others lighter than this?’

‘Yeah. That one’s all my books. These are just trophies and…other stuff.’

She refrained from explaining that the ‘other stuff’ was mostly her favourite stuffed teddies that usually nestled on one of her bookshelves and led Nicole back to the house, nudging the front door open with her foot. As they entered, Wynonna came trotting down the stairs, face equally gritty and hair dotted with what seemed to be white powder.

‘Yo, Haught Mess,’ she smirked. ‘Good to see you made it.’ The look on Nicole’s face was enough of an answer for her to add, ‘Gah, fine. One of these days, I swear, I will find one.’

‘Good to see you, too, Wynonna,’ the redhead smiled. ‘Although, thank you, but I’m not a mess just yet.’

‘You just wait,’ Wynonna muttered, her nose wrinkling and lips curling in disgust as she stared down at her own grubby hands. ‘Still, most of the yucky stuff’s done. It’s just Waves’ bedroom left, so maybe you’ll get lucky up there.’

Nicole spluttered, apparently choking on air alone, and quickly put the heavy box down. Whilst Wynonna seemed torn between a frown and a cackle at her misfortune (she had always thrived on _schadenfreude_ ), Waverly hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. A ripple of déjà vu washed over her as she handed the glass to Nicole, and she recalled the last time they had been in a similar situation not all that long ago.

‘Must be – all the dust,’ Nicole sputtered once she had gulped down half the liquid. ‘Th-thanks.’

Wynonna ran a finger along the handrail of the bannister and inspected it; when it came back clean, she simply shrugged and raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah, must be,’ she said slowly, her eyes narrowing for a fleeting moment. ‘Anyhoo – I’m gonna finish up in the barn. You all right in here?’ she added to Waverly.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Waverly nodded. ‘Just a few more boxes to get from the jeep and then we’ll start unpacking.’

Recovered enough to get back to work, Nicole helped Waverly retrieve the rest of her belongings from outside and trekked them up to her new bedroom. Once done, they set about the more enjoyable task of making the place feel like home once more.

***

Almost two hours later, they had unloaded the boxes and put most of the items in their rightful places, Waverly directing Nicole on which shelf to place her books, though she herself nestled her childhood teddies onto the one below. Though she blushed and murmured something about it being silly, Nicole couldn’t help but find it adorable; thankfully, this time she kept such thoughts to herself and saved herself further embarrassment at the expense of her big mouth.

The last box contained a plethora of silver and gold trophies, each one sparkling as though they had just recently been polished; fishing one out, Nicole turned it over in her hand to read the inscription: ‘Cheerleading Competition Winners: Midwest Regionals, 2013’. She slid her smiling eyes across to the brunette, who was busy smoothing out the freshly-made bed and humming softly to herself.

‘So, cheerleading, huh?’

Waverly twisted around to look at her as Nicole waggled the trophy in her hand. ‘ _Head_ cheerleader, thank you very much,’ she giggled, taking the award out of the redhead’s hands and inspecting it. ‘This was my last year at school. We won regionals three years running.’

Nicole let out a low whistle. ‘Impressive. Must be nice – you know, to have even an ounce of rhythm.’ She laughed as she gestured down to her legs. ‘I’ve always had two left feet. Much better suited to sports.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Waverly said, moving to place the trophy on an empty shelf. ‘What kinds?’

‘Oh, different ones throughout the years,’ Nicole replied, bending down and hooking up two more awards. ‘Softball, soccer. But the only one I really stuck with was basketball.’

Waverly’s eyebrows climbed almost to her hairline. ‘Wow, really? I never figured you for a basketball player. I mean, I suppose you’ve got the height and build for it.’

Nicole missed the quick rake of Waverly’s eyes over her body as she turned to settle the last of the trophies onto the shelf with the rest of their brethren. ‘God, I was so lanky back then,’ she grimaced. ‘I was so much taller than most girls in my year. And lots of the boys, too. It was awkward.’

‘Try being _shorter_ than everyone else and being teased for four years solid,’ Waverly laughed. As she peered into the bottom of the box, her eyes lit up and she let out a squeal that made Nicole jump. ‘Oh my god! I haven’t seen this in three years.’ She whipped up a navy blue and white sleeveless top and matching short – correction: _tiny_ – skirt and brandished them at Nicole. ‘I completely forgot it was in there.’

‘Blue devils?’ Nicole questioned.

‘Yeah, our cheerleading uniform.’ She held the top in front of her to show it off fully and then did the same with the skirt, giggling as she did so. ‘Wow, we really didn’t leave much to the imagination, huh?’

Nicole sucked her lips between her teeth to avoid replying; she could feel a stab of molten warmth somewhere near her abdomen as she gazed at the brunette, a flash of what she must have looked like wearing that outfit searing her mind. _Shit, think of something else_ , she willed herself, looking wildly around the room. Her eyes fell on the cutesy teddies huddled on the shelf next to them. _That’ll do. Innocent toys. Cuddly bears. Totally safe._

‘Oh god,’ Waverly breathed again. Nicole glanced back to find her scooping out a photo frame, smiling broadly. ‘This is the last year we won, when I was head cheerleader.’

With eager hands, she shoved the picture in front of Nicole’s face and all the redhead could see was crimped, honey-brown hair cascading down the girl’s shoulders, a resplendent, white-toothed smile, and far too much smooth, sun-kissed skin. Sufficed to say, it did nothing to aid her efforts at distracting herself from the image of Waverly in the skimpy cheerleading uniform. Now she didn’t even have to imagine it: it was right there before her, in all its sexy glory.

Before Nicole could even muster the ability to form coherent sentences, Waverly pulled the photo away and placed it in the centre of the trophies: pride of place. Silently vowing never to return to Waverly’s bedroom again for fear of being caught ogling that picture, Nicole peeked into the box once more. All that was left were two glittering, tinselled pom-poms, which soon adorned the wall, suspended from a rusty nail.

‘There!’ Waverly squeaked in delight, clapping her hands together as she beamed around the room. ‘It’s finally finished!’

Nicole hadn’t ever pictured what Waverly Earp’s bedroom would look like, but as she cast her gaze around the room, she knew that it would have been just like this. Cute, welcoming, and chic – much like the endearing ball of excited energy that was bouncing on the heels of her feet as she spun around on the spot, taking in the homely results of their exertions.

Her surreptitious glance at the photo ( _Just one more time before I leave forever_ ) meant that Nicole was caught completely off-guard when that same enthusiastic ball lunged forwards and wrapped her in a tight embrace, head buried in her chest and small hands gripping the back of the redhead’s shirt. Stunned, Nicole stumbled but steadied herself by shifting her right leg back a few steps, planting it firmly against the floor. She hesitated at first, unsure where exactly to put her hands, before folding one around Waverly’s waist, the other settling against the top of her head and cradling it. Her heart was pounding so fiercely in her chest that she was certain Waverly could feel it beneath her cheek; if she could, Waverly showed no signs of caring as she snuggled further into Nicole’s t-shirt.

They stayed like that for an indeterminate length of time, until Waverly finally pulled back and smiled up at Nicole, the corners of her eyes crinkling with what Nicole had now learned to recognise as genuine happiness. She could only count on one hand the number of times she had seen those same wrinkles over the past two weeks.

‘Thank you,’ Waverly said softly, her hands still clutching the front of Nicole’s shirt. ‘For all of your help this week.’

‘Of course,’ Nicole replied, reciprocating the warm smile. ‘Any –’ She swallowed the sentence that hovered on the edge of her lips. _Anything for you_. ‘– any time.’

She was still hyper-aware of Waverly’s hands – the fingers of which were now curling more tightly into the fabric of her shirt – resting on her stomach, a subtle warmth seeping through and drawing all of Nicole’s attention to that very spot. It would be so easy to just lean down, to close the small space between them and –

‘Yo, nerds!’ came the shout from downstairs. Startled, Waverly took an automatic step backwards, releasing Nicole’s t-shirt. ‘Get your butts down here. I ordered pizza.’

As if on cue, Nicole felt her insides gurgle and growl and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything since the cereal bar she had hastily scoffed on her way to the homestead. It was, embarrassingly, loud enough for Waverly to hear it; she grinned up at Nicole, who felt the beginnings of a blush warming her cheeks.

‘Good timing,’ Waverly joked and grabbed Nicole’s hand, pulling her down the stairs towards the enticing aroma that wafted out from the kitchen.

Wynonna was already lounging in the new armchair in the living room, legs draped over the side as she guzzled a beer. ‘Th’pale, shickly-lookin’ one is vegan,’ she garbled through a mouthful of pizza.

‘Oh, I didn’t know you were vegan,’ Nicole said as she lifted two slices of the meat option onto her own plate. She stored the information away in her mind for a later date. ‘Is it a new thing, or…?’

Waverly seemed to hesitate momentarily before answering. ‘Yeah, it is. Ever since…the other day at the ranch.’

Nicole nodded, needing no further explanation; she had seen how affected Waverly had been by the incident. Everyone reacted differently to grief and trauma; this was obviously Waverly’s way of processing and coping with it, in her own way. Though Nicole could never foresee becoming vegan herself, she couldn’t help but admire the strength of principle it took.

Shortly afterwards, they joined Wynonna in the living room, each of them settling onto the second-hand sofa that Waverly had picked out, largely because it looked ‘sad and lonely’ in the store and needed ‘a loving home’ according to the younger Earp sister. Wynonna snatched up the TV remote and clicked it, grimacing when a news presenter graced the screen, solemnly narrating a story about another new tragedy unfolding somewhere else in the world; she quickly flicked through the channels (ignoring the huff of indignation from her sister) until Bruce Willis popped up, clad in a grimy, blood-smeared white tank top and squinting through one eye.

‘Fuck, yes,’ Wynonna cheered. ‘ _Die Hard_ is the G.O.A.T.!’

Nicole decided it was best not to question the bizarre reference to the farm animal, instead munching on her second slice of pizza and settling further into the couch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Waverly do the same, crossing her legs under her, pulling down a blanket from the top of the sofa and tucking it over herself. Suddenly, she glanced up at Nicole and patted the seat next to her.

‘Scooch,’ she said. ‘There’s enough blanket for the two of us.’

Wynonna snorted. ‘From someone who needs four blankets and still freezes her ass off in the spring.’

Waverly rolled her eyes and repeated her gesture. Nicole couldn’t deny that her bare calves _were_ feeling the chill; wearing cargo shorts suddenly didn’t seem like the best idea in the world, after all…

At the sight of Waverly’s encouraging smile and nod, Nicole relented and shifted closer to the brunette, tugging the blanket so that it covered her legs, too. She tried to ignore the slight pressure of Waverly’s knee against her thigh, fixing her eyes on the TV screen though registering very little of the actual film as she fought to keep her mind blank. She could make it through an hour of this. No big deal…

***

Waverly’s eyes fluttered open and found that Bruce Willis no longer adorned the TV screen. Stifling a yawn, she tried to move – only to find that she was burrowing into something warm and unyielding yet surprisingly soft. She sat back slightly and felt her eyes widen as comprehension dawned.

Somewhere between finishing her pizza and the end of the film, she had apparently fallen asleep – that much she remembered, her heavy eyelids drooping until she recalled nothing more.

But that was not the horrifying part of the situation.

Sometime _after_ that, she had apparently gravitated towards the nearest heat source, which, to her intense mortification, was Nicole Haught. Nicole, whose arm was slung across the back of the sofa and who was now peering down at Waverly with a soft smile on her tired face, the merest suggestion of dimples puckering her cheeks.

‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘Sleep well?’

Waverly scrambled into a sitting position, pushing strands of hair out of her eyes. ‘God, I am _so_ sorry,’ she breathed. ‘I didn’t – sometimes when I fall asleep, I – ’

Nicole chuckled at the sight of Waverly’s horror-stricken expression and interrupted her rambling, ‘It’s fine. We’ve all been there.’

Groaning audibly, Waverly stared at the spot on Nicole’s shirt in which she had buried her sleeping face and was intensely relieved to find that she had, at the very least, not drooled. God knows Wynonna had mocked her mercilessly enough as a child for that very habit. She didn’t think she would be able to bear the shame this time…

Looking around for something to force a change of subject, Waverly’s eyes fell upon the clock hanging on the far wall: 12.43. _It’s gone midnight already?_

‘Oh my god,’ she gasped. ‘It’s so late! And you – you’ve got work tomorrow.’ Her gaze slid back to Nicole, whose mouth still curved into that charming smile of hers. ‘You should have woken me up.’

‘And miss such an adorable sight? Never.’

Waverly felt her cheeks flush at the comment, her heart giving a terrible and painful _thump_ somewhere near her throat, before she realised Nicole wasn’t looking at her at all, but rather –

Wynonna, half hanging off the armchair, dishevelled hair plastered to her face, and snoring gently. Waverly smothered her giggle behind her hand, the creases pulling at the corners of her eyes the only visible evidence of her mirth – that made it five fingers and counting.

‘You should probably get her into a proper bed,’ Nicole advised her, shifting to stand. ‘Otherwise she’ll be sore tomorrow.’

The genuine care and concern that infused her words clutched at Waverly’s heart and knotted her stomach. How different Nicole was from all her other (now admittedly distant) friends: Chrissy would have just laughed, taken a picture, and left, and Champ would have insisted on humiliating her further by drawing something obscene on her face with a Sharpie.

_Wait,_ why _am I thinking about my dick of an ex-boyfriend?_

Nicole’s movement away from the couch caught her attention and Waverly jumped up, immediately missing the warmth of the fluffy blanket. She shivered when Nicole pulled open the front door slightly and patted her shorts’ pockets to check that she had everything she needed.

‘I best be getting home,’ she said, turning to look at Waverly. ‘Thank your sister for the pizza. I didn’t bring any cash with me, but I’ll pay her when I next see her.’

Waverly frowned and flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Don’t be silly. You’ve done so much for us this week. It’s the least we can do.’

‘Well, if you’re sure…’ Her tone suggested that she would still find some way to repay them, and Waverly vowed to check her pockets before leaving the diner the next morning, just in case. ‘I’ll see you later?’

It was a question, Waverly realised, asked in a hopeful voice. Quite _why_ Nicole sounded uncertain about this, she wasn’t sure.

‘Of course,’ she insisted with a reassuring smile. ‘Breakfast tomorrow, remember? Well, I suppose it’s today, now...’

Nicole nodded, her grin broad enough that Waverly could see her brilliant white teeth. She really did have a beautiful smile...

‘Okay, see you in…about six hours, then.’

And with that, she left, half-jogging to her car through the biting cold. Waverly watched until her brake lights disappeared out of sight, engulfed by the darkness, somehow not at all bothered by the icy air that nipped at her skin as she stood there, the ghost of a smile still haunting her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this is the last full chapter I have written so far and I'm also back 'at work' teaching online, so updates will be slower from here onward. But never fear: I have no intention of stopping! I just won't be able to get a chapter up every day as I have been thus far.


	14. The Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly strikes upon an exciting way to let loose and Nicole realises there really is no turning back where the youngest Earp is concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was initially a lot longer, but I split it into two. Again, I've decided to switch perspectives throughout the chapter (I'm doing this more often as the chapter lengths increase).
> 
> (Also a warning for some homophobic attitudes in this and the next chapter.)

‘Come on Shorty, you know you want to,’ Waverly wheedled, flashing him her most adorable smile as she leant towards him over the bar counter. ‘It’ll be so much fun! And this place needs livening up.’

It had been nearly a week since the Earp sisters had finished doing up the homestead and had officially moved in. Besides a house-warming drink – attended by themselves, Gus, and Curtis only as Nicole had been working the late shift at the station – they had done nothing to celebrate properly. And, damn it, Waverly was in the mood to rejoice.

Shorty cocked an eyebrow at her and pursed his lips. ‘I’ll have you know that business is plenty good on a Saturday already,’ he argued.

‘No, I _know_ ,’ Waverly sighed. ‘But there’s no buzz around the place. We need to – shake it up a bit!’

‘You want that kind of shakin’, get yourself up to _Pussy Willows_ ,’ Shorty grunted, turning away to refill the fridge with the bottles he had hauled up from the cellar minutes earlier.

Waverly felt a noise of disgust rumble in the back of her throat. ‘No, thanks. And besides, I’m not talking about _that_ kind of…entertainment.’ She wrinkled her nose at the word. ‘Just something light-hearted.’

If she had been pressed to explain exactly _why_ she was so set on her idea, Waverly wouldn’t have been able to answer. Perhaps it was simply a need to cut loose for one evening. Perhaps it was seeing the relatively carefree image of herself as head cheerleader not so many years ago the week before, the seventeen-year-old version of herself beaming up at her after their triumphant regionals win. She could still picture their routine with absolute clarity – could probably even still perform it to perfection, if she had to…

Waverly was so mired in her own thoughts that she didn’t even realise Shorty was staring at her until he rapped on the wooden bar with his knuckles.

‘Lost you there for a moment, kid,’ he said with a smile. Seeming to think carefully about something, he frowned before adding, ‘Okay, fine. You win. You can put together your li’l’ shindig.’

So great was her excitement that Waverly couldn’t help running around to the other side of the bar to throw her arms around the old man’s waist, gripping him tightly and squealing her delight. She felt Shorty’s own chuckle reverberate through her skull as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

‘You won’t regret it,’ she beamed, leaning back to fix him with a look of unadulterated joy – one that would have finally allowed Nicole to start counting on a second hand.

‘I have a feelin’ I jus’ might,’ the man grumbled as he wandered away from Waverly, who was now clasping her hands gleefully.

She had _a lot_ of planning to do…

***

Waverly arrived at the diner the next morning much earlier than usual – so early, in fact, that she had to wait not-so-patiently outside in the cold, hopping from one foot to the other in a vain attempt to keep warm, until Hetty finally flicked the sign to ‘Open’ and allowed her inside. Immediately, she strode over to her – _their?_ – usual booth and buried her nose in her notebook, scribbling hasty comments and memoranda as she finalised the organisation of the first – _hopefully of many_ – themed evenings at _Shorty’s_.

She was already chugging her second coffee of the morning when the faint sound of the bell dragged her from her planning mania; glancing up, she was greeted with the sight of Nicole Haught’s beguiling smile, dimples as deep and wide as they had ever been. Once she had her regular breakfast order, she sat opposite the youngest Earp in her usual seat.

Waverly was struck with the sudden notion that some ‘usuals’ were far more pleasant than others.

Her eyes lighting upon Waverly’s mess of notes, Nicole raised an inquiring eyebrow. ‘You studying for another course?’

During one of their many easy conversations over breakfast the past two weeks, Waverly had confided in Nicole about her love of learning and the various correspondence courses she had completed. Rather than the bored yawn and quick change of subject that Waverly had become accustomed to with Champ, Nicole had been genuinely interested, revelling in the brunette’s passionate recounting of her favourite Latin poems and translations, asking probing questions, listening with rapt attention to Waverly’s convoluted answers, something akin to awe shining in her honey-brown eyes. It had been one of those moments in which Waverly finally felt seen, _known_ almost, and understood that this was someone from whom she didn’t need to hide any part of herself – even, and perhaps especially, those parts from which others turned away.

‘Um, not exactly,’ Waverly replied, concealing her excited smirk behind the rim of her mug.

She offered no more explanation, leaving Nicole to shoot her a pointed a look. Okay, maybe she had to hide _this_ part of herself. But it was only so that the payoff would be all the more satisfying.

‘Oookay,’ Nicole laughed, turning her attention to her pastry. ‘You keep your secrets then, Waverly Earp.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing sinister,’ Waverly reassured her. ‘Just a little something I’m planning at _Shorty’s_ for Saturday night. You better be there!’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

‘Good.’ Waverly flashed her a gratified smile. ‘There are some strict requirements, though. I’ll text you the details nearer the time.’

Nicole took her time wiping her mouth with her napkin, meticulously clearing it of any lingering crumbs and droplets of coffee, before fixing Waverly with a playful eye. ‘You _could_ do that…if you had my number.’

Waverly blinked. Several times. Slowly. The beginnings of a frown creased her brow as she mulled over Nicole’s response.

‘But…I gave you _my_ number,’ she said blankly.

Nicole shook her head. ‘Trust me, I’d remember getting the famous Waverly Earp’s phone number.’

There was now a humorous gleam in her eye as she watched Waverly grapple with her own hazy recollection.

‘But I distinctly remember – ’

‘Nope.’

‘The other day – ’

‘Never happened.’

Waverly huffed out an exasperated breath, raking over her memories in a desperate attempt to figure out why she had such a strong impression of the moment she had finally tapped her details into Nicole’s phone. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall any specifics of the event.

‘I must have – ’

She swallowed the rest of the sentence quickly, gritting her teeth in alarm. _I must have dreamt it_. How mortifying it would have been to admit to _that_ particular secret. No, some things were best hidden away forever, locked firmly in her mind where nobody would ever find out the embarrassing truth and inflict _death by humiliation_ upon one so young.

‘ – imagined it,’ she finished lamely. ‘Never mind,’ she muttered, still painfully aware of Nicole’s eyes observing every little change in her expression. ‘Here.’

She held out her hand towards the other woman, gesturing for her phone; Nicole quickly obliged, and Waverly re-enacted the incredibly vivid dream that danced before her mind’s eye as she ran her fingers over the touchscreen. As soon as she handed it back, Nicole tapped it a few times, eliciting an accompanying song from Waverly’s own phone. The entire diner was instantly – and noisily – treated to the suggestively sensual lyrics of the chorus of Ed Sheeran’s ‘South of the Border’, which were altogether far too racy for such an early morning, caffeine-deprived crowd. The few other heads in the room swivelled in their direction, their irritation supplemented with ‘tuts’ that would have carried over to the pair if the ringtone hadn’t been _quite_ so loud. Deep, crimson blotches bloomed on the brunette’s cheeks as she fumbled to silence it, not helped by the ridiculous grin that now graced the deputy’s pale face.

Quite _how_ Waverly had lost the upper hand in the conversation, she couldn’t be bothered to figure out. Instead, she drained the remainder of her now-cold coffee and swept her notepad into her bag.

‘Leaving already?’ Nicole asked, the remnants of an amused smirk toying with one corner of her lips.

‘I’ve got to – plan,’ Waverly responded gruffly, moving her hand to her purse.

‘No, this one’s on me.’

Nicole touched her arm – lightly, briefly – to stop her from fetching out the money and instead slapped her own cash down on the table.

‘You paid last time,’ Waverly protested.

‘And you got the pizza. This is _my_ way of saying thanks.’

‘That was Wynonna.’ Nicole shrugged and grasped Waverly’s elbow in an effort to steer her out of the diner. ‘ _Nicole_ …’

‘Have a great day, Hetty!’ the redhead called out, drowning out the younger Earp’s continued objections.

They were already standing outside before Waverly had any further opportunity to complain. She looked up at Nicole, ready to huff out another half-hearted reproach, but was silenced by the affectionate smile the redhead flashed down at her. _That’s not fair…_

Waverly was beginning to think that _that_ sunshine-and-rainbows-smile and _those_ dimples could convince her to do almost anything, so charming were they. The notion was only compounded further as Nicole cushioned her beige Stetson firmly on her head, pinching the brim and tipping it forwards ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Waverly knew _exactly_ what the theme of Saturday’s night at _Shorty’s_ would be.

‘So, you’ll message me the details for Saturday then?’ Nicole asked as she moved to open the door of her police cruiser, one arm leaning on the roof as she looked across it at Waverly, still standing by the diner’s entrance.

‘Well, I will now I have your number,’ she murmured, so quietly Nicole _almost_ missed it. Her chuckle suggested that she didn’t. ‘Just be prepared for a surprise.’

‘Can’t wait.’

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Nicole started the ignition and departed; Waverly watched the car rumble down the street, her mind consumed with images of Saturday evening’s festivities.

‘Neither can I,’ she whispered to the empty street around her.

***

Friday evening soon arrived and Nicole returned home, exhausted but satisfied. To her mild surprise, Waverly had text her the same night they had exchanged numbers, and they had kept the text-conversation going through the rest of the week on top of their now-routine breakfasts together. It somewhat made up for not seeing her in the evenings as Nicole had done the previous week – which, admittedly, was an unusual circumstance only brought about by the offer of helping to fix the homestead.

It was as she was hunkering down into her couch for yet another ready meal and a couple of hours in front of the television that her phone pinged and flashed up at her from the side table. Scooping it up, she smiled when she saw Waverly’s name and the beginning of her message at the top of the screen: _Helloooo! So, tomorrow, you’ll need to come as…_

Nicole tapped the notification to bring up the entire message…

…and grinned far more broadly as she read it in its entirety.

***

Nicole was intensely grateful that Saturday was her one day off that week; it appeared the fates – or whatever benevolent force was watching over her that day – had been kind to her, for once. Having no other plans until the evening, she spent the day alternating between choosing her outfit for the celebrations at _Shorty’s_ and pottering around her house, cleaning obsessively, knowing she wouldn’t have the time to do so for the rest of the week. She left the house once to buy more appropriate footwear for the occasion, but quickly returned, resisting the urge to text Waverly the entire day. The younger Earp had insisted on this – according to her crazy rule, she didn’t want to accidentally let any further details about the evening slip out. It was meant to be a surprise, and she didn’t trust that, in her heightened state of excitement, she wouldn’t spoil what was to come.

So, Nicole sporadically read and re-read her last message with the very sparse explanation of what to wear, her eyes always drawn to the two ‘kisses’ at the end. Usually, the ever-friendly Waverly included only one ‘kiss’ (and Nicole none, for she had never felt close enough to anyone to include a gesture she herself considered very intimate and so felt awkward doing so).

The rest of the day raced by with Nicole still dwelling on the implications of this decision ( _Did she mean it? Was it a typo? Does she include two for anyone else?)_ , and soon it was time to shower and dress herself in her ensemble for the evening. A quick once-over in the mirror was enough to satisfy herself that she brushed up well, and, before long, she was out of the door and heading to the bar.

To say that she was impressed upon wandering through the double doors to _Shorty’s_ would have been an understatement. The establishment had always harked back to the old Wild West days – Wyatt Earp’s time, more specifically – but tonight it had gone all out to capitalise on that atmosphere tenfold. On the far wall, a roaring log fire hissed and spat as it slowly devoured its fuel, the smell of burning wood permeating the room; the tables that usually sat in the middle of the room had disappeared, leaving a comparatively wide open space for…well, whatever they had planned; the few tables lining the walls each had a different card game set up, with punters already either grumbling or whooping, according to the outcome.

But the best thing about the sight that met Nicole’s eyes as she made her way across the room?

Waverly Earp, standing this side of the bar and organising the stools, head bopping rhythmically to the country music filtering from the jukebox.

Waverly Earp, wearing far-too-tight jean shorts, a red plaid shirt tied into a crop-top, and authentic tan leather cowboy boots that ended just below the knee, the waves of her mousy-brown hair streaming down her back and across her shoulders.

Nicole had been certain that the cheerleading outfit had been the pinnacle of the brunette’s beauty, but now…

It was only when her lungs began to burn, crying out for more oxygen, that Nicole even realised she had stopped breathing. Inhaling in a vain attempt to calm her sudden nerves, she approached Waverly, a broad smile already in place.

‘Evenin’, ma’am,’ she whispered close to Waverly’s ear in an exaggerated southern drawl, making the younger woman jump backwards onto Nicole’s foot.

Nicole winced – Waverly’s boots had actual, honest-to-god spurs attached for the full authentic experience. _Suppose I deserved that._

‘Nicole!’ Waverly cried, her eyes widening at the look of pain on the redhead’s face. ‘Oh god, I’m so sorry. You startled me.’

‘It’s fine,’ Nicole muttered, bending to rub her shin. ‘My fault. I didn’t see the lethal weapons attached to those boots.’

‘Next time, maybe wear a bell,’ Waverly joked. ‘So I can hear you coming.’

‘I’ll take the suggestion on board.’

That failed attempt at a prank over, Nicole straightened up and looked around the room again. ‘This looks amazing, Waverly. Did you do it all yourself?’

‘Yeah, basically,’ Waverly replied with a self-deprecating shrug. ‘It was no big deal.’

‘No, Waverly Earp, you don’t get to do that,’ Nicole said firmly, fixing the woman with a serious look and planting her hands on her shoulders.

‘Do what?’

‘Run yourself down like that, sweeping your accomplishments under the rug. You do it with your studies, too: act like what you’ve achieved is not totally amazing.’ Waverly ducked her head to hide her embarrassment at the effusive compliments. ‘I mean it, Waverly. You’re the smartest, kindest person I’ve ever met. And you need to embrace that. All of it.’

Apparently, she had stunned Waverly into silence, for the younger Earp said nothing; she only stared up at Nicole, eyes brimming with the beginnings of tears. Then, after a few hesitant moments, she sank forwards, wrapping Nicole in a gentle hug.

‘No one’s ever said that to me before,’ she mumbled, voice muffled by Nicole’s own blue-plaid shirt as she buried her face into it.

‘Well, then, they’re stupid,’ Nicole whispered back, resting her cheek on the top of Waverly’s silky hair.

She felt rather than heard the huffed laughter as it reverberated through her clavicle. ‘Don’t let Wynonna hear you saying that.’

‘I reckon she’d agree with me.’

The assorted noises of the bar suddenly crept up on Nicole, reminding her of where exactly they were: standing in _Shorty’s_ , embracing in the middle of a crowded bar where everyone could see them. Not wanting to startle Waverly again, she drew back slowly and flashed her a reassuring smile.

‘So, no more tears,’ she said, feigning seriousness, ‘because we’re going to have fun tonight and crying will just bum everyone out.’

Waverly nodded and grinned; she finally took in Nicole’s appearance properly and practically squeaked with delight. ‘You look amazing! It’s perfect for the theme.’

Nicole glanced down – at her shirt, her dark-blue jeans enclosed with a leather belt and oversized golden buckle, and her black cowboy boots – and shrugged. ‘It wasn’t hard when I already owned most of the getup,’ she admitted with a laugh. ‘Just had to buy the boots. I’ve always secretly wanted to be a cattle herder on a ranch,’ she whispered conspiratorially, eliciting a giggle from Waverly.

‘I can totally see it,’ Waverly agreed. ‘You’ve got the hat and everything.’ Nicole tipped the aforementioned item in an unnecessarily exaggerated gesture. ‘I completely forgot to get one, I was so busy with this place.’

The deliberately petulant pout that she pulled then melted whatever vestige of resolve Nicole had left; without thinking, she swept her Stetson off her head and settled it onto on top of Waverly’s instead. It was _just_ too big, but that only made the image – the hat dipping below Waverly’s eyes, only the point of her nose and her glorious smile visible – all the more endearing. The brunette pushed it further up her head with the tip of her index finger, smirking.

‘Now I feel like a real cowboy,’ she beamed. ‘Or…cowgirl?’

‘Oh, definitely a cowgirl,’ Nicole agreed. ‘The look is far too cute for a boy.’

Just then, the entire ensemble of Waverly’s _very_ sexy outfit hit her; the full force of the oversized hat angled backwards, her crimped hair falling messily over her shoulders, the tightened shirt, the ends of which were secured into a knot, exposing the expanse of her tanned and toned abdomen – it was enough to make Nicole’s eyes widen and her palms begin to sweat, though not because of any _external_ heat. Her mouth suddenly felt very parched and she ran her tongue across her lips in an attempt to moisten them. Waverly’s eyes flickered to watch the action, and then – _God, help me_ – she bit her own bottom lip, seemingly unconsciously.

‘Am I getting a drink any time soon?’

The intruding voice made both women flinch and they looked up to see – _who else?_ – Wynonna leaning on the counter of the bar, drumming her fingers loudly in an embellished show of impatience. Her eyes were drawn to the Stetson still resting on Waverly’s head.

‘Suits you, baby girl,’ she said. ‘Now you really look the part.’

Waverly grinned and dutifully moved behind the bar to serve her sister. ‘Right? I think I need to get my own.’

Nicole privately – and wholeheartedly – agreed. Rather than voice such a desire, she perched on the stool next to Wynonna and waited as Waverly poured them both a glass of whiskey (the beverages and snacks offered that night were those authentic to Wyatt Earp’s time – at least, as authentic as they could manage in the twenty-first century). Wynonna, of course, was in her element as she promptly downed her drink and tapped for another.

‘Wynonna,’ Waverly warned, her eyebrow arched in disapproval. ‘You need to pace yourself. It’s early and you’ve already had three.’

‘Okay, _mum_ ,’ her sister retorted, offering her glass up nevertheless. With an audible sigh, Waverly relented and topped it up. ‘Anyway – what’s the grand plan for tonight? I _know_ you have something special prepared that’s going to blow us all away.’

Waverly caught Nicole’s eye, a silent conversation shared through a look alone. _See, I told you she’d agree._ The brunette’s nod was almost imperceptible – but Nicole noticed it. Just as she noticed the small intake of breath before Waverly answered.

‘Well, we have music, and we have plenty of drunken cowboys in the room, so – ’

‘Oh my god, you’re going to make us do some line dancing, aren’t you?’ Wynonna interrupted, earning a glare from her younger sister, who didn’t actually deny it. ‘I love it.’

‘Wh-wait, what?’ Waverly stuttered. ‘You…do?’ She narrowed her eyes as she glanced at the once-again-empty whiskey glass. ‘Did you steal the bottle when my back was turned again?’

Wynonna feigned outrage at such an accusation. ‘Well, excuse _me_ for trying to support my baby sister’s grand plans.’

‘Definitely the drink,’ Waverly muttered and rolled her eyes.

Amused as always with the Earps’ bickering, Nicole quietly sipped her whiskey and observed the interaction, once again reminded of how threadbare the tapestry of her own childhood had been. No siblings, absent parents – physically and emotionally – and not even a pet she could call her own. Sure, the Earps’ history may have been tumultuous from what she had gathered, but at least they had people to call theirs. People who cared enough to tell them to stop drinking. People who would support their ideas even at the expense of their own embarrassment, just out of love alone.

It was funny, really, Nicole decided: the paths that they trod through life – the ones that merged and those that never crossed at all. How different everything would have been if she hadn’t have accepted Nedley’s (oft-repeated) offer of employment. If she hadn’t have met Waverly Earp…

Watching the sisters alternately sniping and teasing one another, Nicole thought that, maybe – just maybe – she had found her own people. Friends she could call hers.

She only realised that the two women had ceased their back-and-forth when she felt both pairs of eyes staring at her, apparently waiting for something.

‘We broke her,’ Wynonna said, clicking her fingers in front of the redhead’s face.

‘Er, what?’ was all Nicole managed to stammer.

‘I asked if you were ready,’ Waverly replied, peering at her through squinted and suspicious eyes. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, absolutely!’ Nicole drained the rest of her drink and choked as it blazed a fiery trail all the way to her stomach. ‘Um…ready for what, exactly?’

‘See, broken.’

‘Hush,’ Waverly snipped. ‘The dance, silly,’ she added in a softer voice to Nicole.

_Shit._

_…_

_Shit._

The mere mention of dancing always made Nicole’s heart race as though she had just run a marathon; her legs appeared to have been cast in concrete and she began to sweat in uncomfortable places. She was sure she had told Waverly that she had about as much rhythm as a tone-deaf donkey…

‘Yeah, um…I don’t – I don’t dance,’ she mumbled, almost withering under the piercing gazes of the Earp sisters.

‘Everyone dances,’ Wynonna scoffed.

‘No, I – I _can’t_ dance,’ Nicole insisted, shaking her head.

‘ _Everyone_ can dance,’ the older Earp persisted. ‘What you mean is you can’t dance _well_.’

Well, shoot. _Touché_. Yes, Nicole supposed that _was_ what she really meant. Still, she would rather avoid humiliating herself in front of the whole town, the mercilessly sarcastic Wynonna, and – oh, yeah – the woman with whom she was completely besotted. If Waverly – the girl who had once been head cheerleader – saw just how uncoordinated she was, she could kiss goodbye to any hope of charming her.

Seeing just how uncomfortable Nicole was, Waverly moved to the other side of the bar and grasped her hand, squeezing it lightly. ‘Come on, it’ll be fun.’

And she smiled.

And Nicole surrendered. Just like that.

She was almost certain that _that_ smile could convince her to do just about anything. Including, horrifyingly, participating in some line dancing – a feat she had thus far managed to avoid her entire life.

‘Right you lot!’ Wynonna shouted over the din in the bar. It quietened down surprisingly quickly – but then, Nicole supposed, this _was_ Wynonna Earp. ‘It’s time to get this party started!’

‘I know line dancing wasn’t _technically_ created until after Wyatt’s time, but it’s the closest we’ll get with this bunch,’ Waverly whispered to Nicole over the sound of scraping chairs and cheerful hollers. Catching the look of sheer panic in the redhead’s wide eyes, she added, ‘Don’t worry, it’s easy. Just follow my lead.’

So that was how Nicole – with her two left feet and utter lack of any rhythm whatsoever – ended up (badly) performing the ‘Open Heart Cowboy’ country western line dance alongside both Earp sisters and half the patrons of the bar, grinning like an idiot as her fears melted away at the sight of Waverly dancing with abandon, revelling in the music and the exhilaration of those around her. Anything that could elicit such joy couldn’t be so bad, after all, she decided.

She was so enamoured with the image, in fact, that she was easily persuaded to continue for another three dances, stumbling her way through the moves like a new-born deer until she was breathless and her jaw hurt from smiling too much.

‘You did it!’ Waverly cried once the final song fizzled out and they were safely settled on their bar stools again.

‘Yo, Haught Damn,’ Wynonna slurred, apparently forgetting she had already tried that pun as she offered Nicole a shaky high-five, which Nicole accepted with a chuckle.

They sat there for a while longer, Wynonna cajoling Nicole to keep pace with her drinking (which was never going to happen) and Waverly flitting about serving the punters various snacks from recipes ripped straight from the history books (which she had dutifully researched in the days prior to the event) and occasionally grabbing herself another drink.

It was as the night was nearing its end that, whiskey-soaked and flooded with Dutch courage, several patrons raised a clamour for more dancing. Through her own alcohol-dulled hearing, Nicole eventually realised that they were not, in fact, demanding another group dance, but a solo one.

‘C’mon Waverly,’ one young man - who, if she squinted at the right angle, Nicole could just about discern was Pete York - cried out. ‘Show us ya famous number!’

Numerous assenting shouts followed this, accompanied by raucous cheering and the slapping of palms on tables. Nicole swivelled her head, very slowly, to fix Waverly with a wonky look. Even drunk, she could see that Waverly was blushing, smiling nervously as she shook her head.

‘C’mon, baby girl,’ Wynonna cackled. ‘Gotta give ‘em what they want.’ Waverly’s resolve remained firm as she shook her head more vigorously, shooting a warning glare at her sister. ‘It wash the besht thing thish town’s ev’r sheen.’

‘I’m _not_ performing a cheerleading dance in the middle of _Shorty’s_ in front of all these drunkards,’ Waverly laughed as Wynonna sloshed some whiskey down her top and gasped in horror at the utter waste.

Apparently, the word ‘cheerleading’ was now enough to send Nicole’s brain into a tumult, the still-fresh image of _that_ photo exploding before her mind’s eye as she shifted uncomfortably on the hard stool. Her eyes widened at the very thought, her eyebrows crawling up almost to her hairline as she stared at Waverly – a little too hard and a little too long. Feeling Nicole’s gaze on her, Waverly looked up at her, taking in her bewildered expression; something in Nicole’s eyes (and perhaps the handful of drinks she had tucked away throughout the night) seemed to chip away at that previously steely resolve and she smiled again.

This time, that smile was _anything_ but innocent.

‘Okay,’ she said simply.

Even Wynonna appeared shocked at the sudden change of heart and began to applaud wildly, whistling her approval. Soon enough, the rest of the bar joined her as the recognition of what was to happen rippled across the room like a drunken Chinese whisper. The youngest Earp threw a mischievous wink at Nicole and tossed her Stetson over to her; reflexes dulled by the whiskey, Nicole fumbled with it, just about catching it before it fluttered to the floor. Rather than heading to the jukebox, however, Waverly began to fiddle with something behind the bar. The shriek of feedback from speakers resounded throughout the room, making Nicole and several others wince. The momentary torment was soon forgotten, though, as Waverly made her way to the centre of the bar. The room held its breath, eagerly anticipating the spectacle to come.

It was actually happening. The realisation dawned on Nicole too slowly; she hardly had time to react before the music began…

_Holy shit._

At first, she barely registered the song itself, so transfixed was she by the way that Waverly moved her body – she was all supple arms, lithe legs, agile hips that swayed in time to the music, hands running down the length of her body, taut abs flexing with every twist of her torso. Nicole could only stare, captivated by the masterpiece that was being constructed before her very eyes, deep breaths stuttering up her throat and escaping in forced bursts through her nose.

It was only when the chorus started that a jolt of recollection sparked in her mind.

_So join me in this bed that I'm in_ _  
And push up on me and sweat, darling_

Suddenly, she forgot how to breathe entirely. It was the song from the other day – the highly suggestive ringtone that had mortified Waverly when it had broadcast to all five customers at the diner.

_So I'm gonna put my time in_ _  
I won't stop until the angels sing_

And Waverly had _deliberately_ chosen this song to dance to…

_Jump in that water, be free_ _  
Come south of the border with me_

To Nicole, it all happened in slow motion, as though someone had reduced time to a crawl.

In the fraction of a second that she paused one of her moves, her hair splayed across her reddened cheeks, chest heaving with the exertion of the dance, Waverly locked eyes with Nicole and smirked, one corner of her lips sliding up into an impish grin.

_She knows…_

All at once, Nicole’s breathing resumed with a vengeance; her heart throbbed in her chest; her insides burned with a flame that was only stoked by the performance – that somehow managed to be so graceful and _so_ stimulating at the same time.

She was almost relieved when the song finally ended and Waverly curtseyed to the howling crowd, a shy smile returning to her face. Wynonna and a few of the young men in the bar, including _both_ York brothers, immediately accosted her, showering her with drunken compliments. As Waverly graciously accepted them, Nicole spun around to lean against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the hard wood and eyes squeezed shut as she tried to regain her composure before Waverly came back over. She couldn’t reveal just _how_ badly affected she had been by that dance. It wouldn’t be…appropriate. _Not here. Not now._

Opening her eyes again only once she felt some semblance of calm, Nicole glanced up at the mirror in front of her…and found someone else glaring at her reflection over her shoulder.

‘Champ,’ she muttered without turning around.

She could smell the reek of whiskey seeping from him as he stood mere inches from her. His jaw was clenched and he swayed slightly on the spot as he tried to fix her with what appeared to be an attempt at an intimidating glower.

‘I saw the way you were lookin’ at her,’ he hissed.

Nicole twisted around quickly, her eyes darting over to Waverly, who was still being hounded by both proud and lecherous punters. ‘Not now, Hardy,’ Nicole said through gritted teeth. ‘You’re drunk. Again.’

‘You think I don’ know what’s goin’ on?’ Champ continued, voice louder now as he clutched his glass between white-knuckled fingers. ‘She on’y dumped me once _you_ arrived.’

Leaping off the stool, Nicole stretched herself to her full height so that she was eye-to-eye with the man. She held his stare without blinking, her own fingers curling into fists at her sides.

‘You need to leave,’ she whispered. ‘Before you do something you’ll regret.’

‘Bitch, don’t you tell me what to do!’

He was almost shouting now, flecks of spittle speckling Nicole’s face; she resisted the urge to scrub them away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Waverly turn her head in their direction, along with several others as the hubbub in the room subsided.

‘Champ, I _will_ arrest you this time if you don’t back down.’

‘Fuck you!’ he bellowed. ‘You think I don’t what you are?’ He paused, as though for dramatic effect, allowing his words to settle. ‘What, are you hoping _you’ll_ get into her pants if she’s not with me? It’s _disgusting_!’

Nicole could almost feel her stomach plummet to somewhere far below her abdomen. Inhaling sharp, painful breaths, she darted her eyes around the room; _everyone_ was watching the disaster unfold. The expressions on their faces – some confused, others blank, yet more concerned – revealed what she had feared: they had heard.

Worse, they had understood.

It was like high school all over again. She was in eighth grade, standing in a hallway swarming with students all jostling to get to their next lesson, being screamed at by the girl for whom she had harboured a secret (or not so secret, as it transpired) crush for the past two years. Then came the stares, the _whispers_ , and the crude graffiti carved into the toilet doors for the next four years.

When the murmurs began to ripple around the room, Nicole knew she had to leave. Now. Without another word, she snatched up her hat from the bar and stormed through the double doors. The brisk night air scratched at her hot cheeks, but she didn’t care. She just had to get as far away from that hotbed of gossip and sniping as quickly as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think we would have a fic without Waverly's dancing? Of course not. What would Wayhaught be without it? ;)
> 
> Also, I've been (not so) mildly obsessed with Ed Sheeran's latest album over the past few months, hence the inclusion of the song in this chapter (my story isn't set in a definite year, so I took some liberties). I felt it was the best one from the album to ramp up the tension between our favourite pair. I'm no dance expert in the slightest, as should be painfully obvious from this chapter, but I did do a fair bit of research and also watched different choreography for that song in particular. If anyone's interested in the video I had in mind, do ask in the comments and I'll link to it.
> 
> (Also, it messed up my formatting towards the end of the chapter - the paragraphs wouldn't indent properly - so if anything looks a little wonky, that'd be why -_-)


	15. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see Waverly's reaction to the events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of the ending to the previous chapter, but, as I mentioned, I decided to separate them. Thus, this is a MUCH shorter chapter than the recent ones. I almost held it back and included it with the next chapter, but I thought it worked best standing alone. So - here it is!
> 
> (Another warning for homophobic attitudes in this chapter.)

Waverly only realised something was wrong when she could hear the angry shouting above even the boisterous drunken praise that was being heaped on her by the York boys and a few other admirers. Snapping her head up, she could see Champ squaring up to Nicole, his face inches from hers. As though someone had pressed the mute button on a remote, the room slipped into a tense silence, every gaze focused on the same ugly spectacle unfolding before their eyes. Fearing the worst, Waverly pushed her way through the crowd, elbowing them aside with all the violence she could muster.

‘What, are you hoping _you’ll_ get into her pants if she’s not with me? It’s _disgusting_!’

For a split second, Waverly thought her heart had stopped beating, as though there was a void where it had once been, a painful chasm that left her blood running cold in her veins. Her eyes flitted around the room and she realised – at the same time as Nicole did – that everyone had heard.

Every one of Purgatory’s notoriously traditional, backwards residents crammed into that bar had heard – and, from the terse expressions on various faces, had understood – Champ’s vile tirade.

Waverly could feel her legs quivering beneath her, though still she pushed forwards, desperate to get to Nicole. Yet she was too late: the redhead was already fleeing the bar. She made to run after her, but a hand shot out and clasped her wrist, rough fingernails digging into her flesh. Spinning around, she found Champ leering down at her, drunker than she had ever seen him.

‘Don’t waste your time on that bitch,’ he growled. ‘Fuckin’ queer.’

Hot anger flashed through Waverly’s body, scorching her veins, blood now bubbling to the surface of her skin and making her whole face bloom crimson. She snatched her hand out of his grasp, felt it tremble in the air, before she slapped it across his face with a force that belied her petite build. Champ staggered backwards, dropping his glass to the floor, which shattered into tiny pieces, the sound magnified in the stillness of the room.

But Waverly didn’t care. She didn’t care that all eyes were glued to the unpleasant scene; she didn’t _care_ about the mutterings that started to filter from the corners of the room.

‘Don’t you _dare_ talk to me,’ she spat, voice low, menacing. ‘Don’t come near me _or_ Nicole _ever_ again.’

Her breaths tearing out of her lungs and scraping her throat as she forced herself to exhale, Waverly spun on her heel and ran out of the bar.

The moment she was outside, the fight with Champ vanished from her mind; all she wanted was to find Nicole and speak to her, to comfort her. She raked her eyes up and down the street, looking for a tell-tale flash of red in the dim glare cast by the streetlights. But the town was empty, everyone either packed into _Shorty’s_ or tucked up in their own homes. Every breath she inhaled chilled her throat and she began to shiver, the night air prickling her skin, goosebumps erupting along every exposed patch of flesh.

Without her consciously making a decision, Waverly’s legs began to carry her in the direction of the police station. It was a fair walk, but right then the only thing that mattered was getting there as quickly as possible, and she was in no state to drive.

She hadn’t made it thirty seconds down the road before her eyes alighted upon the nearby police cruiser, parked up against the curb. Peering into the darkened interior, Waverly could just about make out a figure hunched in the driver’s seat, arms resting against the steering wheel and head slumped on top. Hurrying over, she yanked the door open with shaking fingers and slid into the passenger’s side, Nicole jolting up at the sudden disturbance.

‘Wave – ’

She didn’t even get a chance to utter the brunette’s full name before Waverly reached out to grasp Nicole’s hand firmly between both of her own. ‘I’m _so_ sorry that happened,’ she breathed, feeling tears stinging her eyes as she looked at Nicole’s face, drawn and paler than usual in the garish light from the nearby streetlamp. ‘He had – _no_ right – ’

She could feel the fury flaring inside of her again, making it increasingly difficult to stutter out any semblance of coherent thought. Nicole simply shook her head, gripping Waverly’s hand in return.

‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ she said quietly. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘I – I slapped him,’ Waverly replied, and she was surprised to hear herself chuckle – more out of anger than mirth.

Even more surprising, though, was the tight smile that Nicole offered. ‘Yeah?’

‘Right in front of everyone. And it felt _so good_.’ She glanced up at Nicole again then swiftly ducked her head, shame and embarrassment and a wave of nausea flooding her stomach all at once. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated, knowing nothing else she could say would fix the broken pieces of Nicole’s pride.

They lapsed into a silence that seemed to stretch on for longer than the two minutes it took for one of them to break it; neither one let go of the other’s hand, content to offer some modicum of comfort through that simple connection.

Then, appearing to come to some decision, Nicole took a deep breath and turned to face Waverly, her expression sombre yet determined. ‘He’s right, you know,’ she said softly. ‘Champ. What he said. He’s – what he said was true.’ The involuntary frown that drew Waverly’s brows together seemed to panic her, for she hastily added, ‘N-not the bit about – getting into your – ’ She swallowed hard and tried again. ‘I mean, what he was implying about me. That I’m…gay.’

The admission fell between them and hovered in the cool night air, neither one quite knowing what to do with it. Nicole kept her eyes averted from Waverly's for a long moment before she chanced a quick glance up.

Then, slowly, a gentle smile graced Waverly’s face. ‘I kind of figured,’ she replied.

She offered nothing more than that. She _wanted_ to say an awful lot - to tell Nicole that she didn't care, had _never_ cared, that it changed absolutely nothing between them - but she wasn't sure she could do her thoughts the kind of justice that Nicole needed right then. So she simply held Nicole's gaze with an unwavering one of her own, hoping that it was enough.

‘Oh.’ Apparently, Nicole hadn’t been expecting that answer, for she simply blinked in response. Then, suddenly, ‘I don’t care what that _fuckwit_ thinks,’ she spat. ‘But the looks in there – the _whispering –_ ’ She stopped, working hard to steady her breathing before continuing. ‘I’ve always been confident with who I am,’ she said, turning her earnest brown eyes to the woman next to her, almost beseeching her to understand. ‘I’ll always answer honestly if anyone ever asks. But – I can’t do my job effectively if the townsfolk don’t trust me. If they…if they _hate_ me.’

Waverly felt her heart lurch as Nicole’s breath hitched in her throat, her hand squeezing the brunette’s just a little too tightly. ‘They _won’t_ hate you,’ Waverly insisted. ‘They won’t. They just…it’ll take time for them to process it. But, eventually, they won’t care. You just have to show them that it doesn’t change anything about you, that they can trust you just the same.’

The urgency in her words - the desperate need to reassure Nicole, to make her understand - surprised even Waverly and she pushed aside the thought that niggled the back of her mind. Right now, Nicole needed her full attention. She could deal with her own issues later.

Thankfully, Nicole seemed to accept what she had said without further comment. Once again, silence reigned. The road was still deserted, and the bar was far enough away that none of the noise within carried far enough to disturb them. Waverly swept her gaze down the street, watching a streetlight flicker on and off in a staccato pattern, listening to the rhythmic sound of Nicole’s breathing beside her, feeling herself calm just by being in the other woman’s presence.

It was odd, really, she decided – how quickly someone could become so important to you. How subtly they could insert themselves into your life, so that you wondered how you ever managed without them.

It was odd…and terrifying all at the same time.

For people leave. People abandon you. People break your heart.

‘I should get home,’ Nicole said finally, her voice little more than a whisper, hinting at the exhaustion that was overwhelming her. ‘I’ll just…have to walk.’ She looked at Waverly, holding her gaze for a long moment. ‘Thank you. For this.’

‘You always tell me I don’t need to apologise,’ Waverly smiled. ‘Well, you never need to thank me. For anything.’

In her own way, Waverly had tried to reveal to Nicole just how important she was to her. Just how much she _didn’t_ want to manage without her in her life.

She wondered if Nicole even understood.

She hoped she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always knew I wanted Waverly to get so furious she would slap someone, and Champ seemed like the ideal recipient! He more than deserved it...


	16. The Same Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly attempts to dissect everything that has happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should be working, marking essays and planning lessons, but I couldn't stop until I had this finished! So...a final update for the weekend. Sadly, the next one probably won't be as forthcoming, but come it will in due time. :)

Luckily for the Earp sisters, Gus and Curtis had not yet left the bar. Neither one of them were in any fit state to operate a vehicle – Wynonna blind drunk, and Waverly still slightly tipsy and shaken from the evening’s events – so their aunt ordered them both into the back of her truck in her usual gruff voice, Curtis settling into the passenger’s side a little worse for wear, too. He had spent the majority of the evening at one of the gambling tables or other, Gus beside him to ensure he didn’t flush away all of their retirement money in one go and offering more than one biting criticism of his shocking poker face and excessive drinking.

Despite Nicole’s insistence that she would walk home, alone and in the freezing cold, Waverly had managed to persuade – well, shove, really – her into the truck. She hadn’t asked Gus’ permission, and she hadn’t needed to; the older woman simply asked Nicole where she lived, and away they went.

Nobody spoke in the ten minutes it took for the packed vehicle to trundle through the deserted streets to her house on the outskirts of the town. Even Wynonna was showing a surprising amount of restraint and tact, refraining from offering her usual sardonic quips – but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t paying attention, of course. Waverly was painfully aware of her sister’s occasional glances out of the corner of her eye, and tried hard to ignore the repeated flicking of her aunt’s eyes to her rear view mirror. Rather than acknowledge them, however, she instead sat close to Nicole, her own bare leg pressed against the redhead’s jean-clad one, and gripped her arm in a silent gesture of comfort. Almost unwittingly, she began to trace light circles with her index finger over the light fabric of her shirt, more out of a need to do _something_ ; yet it soothed her – and Nicole, judging by the way that her muscles became less rigid the longer Waverly repeated her ministrations – nevertheless.

So focused was she on staring blankly at the back of her uncle’s seat that she completely forgot about the vigilant eyes of the other occupants of the vehicle.

When they finally crawled to a halt outside of Nicole’s house – which, Waverly now realised, she had never actually visited – the redhead offered a quiet murmur of gratitude and slid her fingers over the handle to open the door. As she moved to exit the truck, Waverly squeezed her arm one last time and smiled.

‘I’ll text you,’ she whispered, although it was audible to all in the otherwise silent car.

Nicole nodded. They all watched as she trudged up to her front door, turned the key, and slipped into the beckoning darkness within. Satisfied that she was now safely inside, Gus pulled away, striking up a hushed dialogue with her husband that Waverly could not – and did not particularly care to – make out. She watched them with unseeing eyes, both thankful and mortified that they had attended the bar that evening; they had witnessed the ugly scene that had marred an otherwise very enjoyable night, and it was this that Wynonna finally settled on as the topic of the conversation as they made their way to the homestead.

‘I told you, baby girl,’ a now sobering Wynonna huffed through an exaggerated yawn. ‘He’s a douche canoe. A grade-A prick.’

‘That he is,’ Curtis agreed, surprising everyone in the car. When he noticed the three pairs of eyes staring back at him, he added, ‘What? He is. I always thought it.’

‘But you still pay him to do fuck-all on your ranch,’ Wynonna scoffed, snorting a derisive, nasally laugh.

‘He’s a decen’ worker,’ Curtis said defensively. ‘But a terrible human bein’.’

Uneasy with the direction the conversation was taking, Waverly fell to gazing out of the window at the darkness beyond. If she narrowed her eyes enough, she could just about pick out the silhouette of a tree or a signpost as they whizzed by. But, try as she might, she could not drown out the discussion that continued around her.

After roundly abusing Champ Hardy for a few minutes more, Wynonna steered the conversation to Nicole and her hasty exit, much to Waverly’s dismay.

‘Haught Shot shoulda decked him,’ Wynonna insisted. ‘Knocked him on his ass. I woulda done it, but he ran away with his dick between his legs as soon as you left.’

Waverly couldn’t stop the involuntary glance up at the mention of the redhead, and found her aunt watching her in the rear view mirror, eyes fixed on Waverly’s; she couldn’t help but feel as though she was being _seen_ , then. _Really_ seen. It made her feel both uncomfortable and strangely comforted.

‘I take it you went after her?’ Wynonna asked, looking at her sister. ‘You ran out in a hurry.’

Waverly swallowed and nodded. ‘Yeah. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.’

‘You’re a’ – Wynonna hiccoughed – ‘good friend.’

_Friend…_

That’s certainly what they were. They were becoming very _good_ friends, _very_ quickly, that much was true.

And yet…

‘Ooooh, thank god,’ Wynonna groaned, pressing her face up against the cold window. ‘I can hear my bed calling to me.’

They were home at last. Waverly couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t relieved to be able to leave the car and the discussions behind her. Before she could hop out, though, Gus twisted in her seat and reached out a hand to stop her, only speaking once Wynonna and Curtis had exited the vehicle.

‘Darlin’, are you okay?’ she asked, her voice unusually gentle. ‘What happened tonight – you know it’s not your fault, don’t you?’

Waverly shook her head, feeling tears pricking the back of her eyes for the third time that evening. ‘It’s not me I’m worried about, Gus,’ she murmured.

This time, her aunt took hold of her hand and squeezed it, hard. ‘All she needs t’ know is that she has people who care for her,’ Gus said firmly. ‘Friends who will look out for her.’ Waverly sniffled, closing her eyes in a futile attempt to stem the flow of tears; Gus pressed her hand again. ‘An’ you,’ she continued softly, ‘you deserve to be happy, too. Don’ much matter who with.’

Waverly’s heart skipped a beat, then, as though to make up for the mistake, added two in quick succession; if Gus hadn’t been holding her hand so tightly, she was sure it would be trembling. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to look at her aunt, a silent question in her eyes that she was too afraid to voice aloud.

_What do you mean?_

She wasn’t sure she was quite ready to hear the answer…

And Gus didn’t offer it, even if she _could_ discern what Waverly wanted to say. Instead, she smiled. In that moment, that smile – warm, generous, supportive – meant everything to Waverly. In that smile, she knew she had nothing to fear.

‘Come on, let’s get you inside.’

Waverly nodded and silently followed her aunt out of the truck and into the house, where they found Wynonna already rummaging in the fridge and flat-out ignoring Curtis’ suggestion to head straight to bed.

‘I’m too buzzed to sleep,’ she argued.

‘But you _just_ said how happy you were to be going to bed,’ Waverly pointed out. ‘I guess whiskey is a bigger draw.’

Wynonna threw her a wink and a smirk and dropped into one of the dining chairs, promptly splaying her legs over another, safe in the knowledge that Gus couldn’t scold her for it.

‘Wynonna, don’t be rude.’

Or not.

The older Earp pursed her lips together, left her feet precisely where they were for a few more seconds, then inched them off as slowly as she dared under the withering glare of Gus McCready. Feeling the inevitable argument brewing, Waverly excused herself and dragged herself up the stairs to her room, ignoring the stares of the others that she could feel prickling her back as she did so. Right then, she desired nothing more than to be alone.

So exhausted was she that Waverly barely had the energy to remove her coat and shoes before she collapsed onto her bed, face buried into her pillow. Yet, as tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut, as much as she willed sleep to steal her away and lull her into a blissful dream, it proved elusive. Growling her frustration, she rolled over and snatched up her phone from the bedside table, fumbling to plug in her headphones. She nestled them into her ears and hit ‘Shuffle’ on her most recent album, allowing the music to drown out her tempestuous thoughts as her eyes followed the patchwork of cracks that snaked across the ceiling.

_I'm at a party I don't wanna be at_

But, of course, such pressing thoughts couldn’t be stifled for long, and this was altogether the _wrong_ song to help her forget the shitshow of the previous hour.

The evening had started out so well. Waverly had worked hard to set the mood, to spruce up the tired-looking bar with additional memorabilia that really captured the authenticity of turn-of-the-century Old West America. Her frenzied efforts had been rewarded with the punters’ delighted cheers, with their harmless gambling and eager drinking…and with the sight of Nicole in _that_ outfit.

_Then you take my hand  
Finish my drink, say, "Shall we dance?" Hell, yeah_

Despite her intense reservations, Waverly had managed to convince Nicole to dance with them with relative ease. And she had actually _enjoyed_ it. She had let her hair down – quite literally, her auburn tresses allowed to flow freely for once – and joined in the fun with the rest of the bar’s residents. The newest deputy had embraced Purgatory’s unique way of life and was assimilating, one whiskey shot and line dance at a time. And Waverly…

Waverly, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through her warm veins and the _very_ _obvious_ look in Nicole’s eyes, had danced, too. She hadn’t cared that half the town was watching; she hadn’t cared that her own family were witnesses to what was arguably the sexiest number she had ever performed. The moment she had caught Nicole’s gaze towards the end of the song, had smiled – no, _smirked_ – at her, nothing else had seemed to matter.

_Don't think I fit in at this party  
Everyone's got so much to say, yeah_

And then everything had been ruined.

Within minutes, the thin wire of tension that had been slowly pulling them closer together over the past few weeks had snapped, and _not_ in the way that Waverly would have anticipated.

_Fucking Champ._

She looked down at her hand, the ghost of a sting haunting her palm as she remembered with no small amount of relish how satisfying it had felt to put him in his place. _Finally_.

Yet, Waverly couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t been unnerved by the patrons’ reactions to the scene. The looks – some caustic enough to burn – and the murmurs that had followed Champ’s outburst only confirmed what she had suspected all along: that, in many ways, Purgatory was just as lost to the annals of history and traditions as Wyatt Earp’s famous badge. That it would never _truly_ accept something as progressive as the notion that not everyone in America subscribed to the ‘Adam and Eve’ lifestyle.

_I always feel like I'm nobody, mm  
Who wants to fit in anyway?_

But, in that moment when Nicole had fled, had escaped the prying eyes and vicious gossip, Waverly knew that she would gladly face it all to show her just how much she cared.

_And you're making me feel like maybe I am somebody  
I can deal with the bad nights_

Because with Nicole by her side, Waverly felt braver than she ever had done. She felt as though there was at least one person out there who understood her, who accepted her for who she was, and who allowed her simply to _be_. Nicole listened to – loved, even – her passionate ramblings about history, and Latin, and French, and Sumerian; Nicole refused to allow her to succumb to her old insecurities, to her fears that she would never be good enough, not whilst the Earp name perched on her shoulder like a dreaded albatross.

Nicole encouraged her to be a better person than she ever thought she could be.

_'Cause I don't care, as long as you just hold me near  
You can take me anywhere  
And you're making me feel like I'm loved by somebody_

And in Nicole’s presence, in her arms, she felt safe. Secure. Cared for. Since the deputy had walked into Waverly’s life less than a month ago, she had found no better way of calming her increasingly frayed nerves than simply being in the redhead’s presence, than the sensation of soft brown eyes gazing down at her with such unbridled affection, than the soothing lilt of her voice as she reminded her with each conversation – be it about lost friends or studying or departed sisters – that everything would be okay in the end.

She silently thanked Nedley, over and over and over again, for his stubborn determination to recruit Nicole. How very different her life would be if he had simply given up…

_Tryna talk, but we can't hear ourselves  
Read your lips, I'd rather kiss 'em right back_

Waverly bit her lip, worrying it with her front teeth. She would be lying if she said that she hadn’t imagined what it would be like to simply abandon her doubts and kiss Nicole. And, whatever else Waverly did, she always had to tell the truth. She had never once been attracted to another woman before, but Nicole…

Nicole made her feel things she had thought were impossible. Waverly had only ever dated one person in her life, and Champ Hardy wasn’t exactly the greatest barometer for the perfect relationship. She had never looked at another girl in that way, but Nicole…

_With all these people all around  
I'm crippled with anxiety_

Unbidden, the faces of her family rose in her mind: Wynonna, and Curtis, and Gus. What would they say – what would they _do_ – if they found out that Waverly could be…

_But I'm told it's where I'm supposed to be_

Just as quickly, Gus’ smile - warm, generous, supportive - and her words floated back to her, cutting through the lyrics of the song: _‘_ _You deserve to be happy, too. Don’ much matter who with.’_ And with them, the question that Waverly hadn’t dared to ask. The question to which, anyway, she already knew the answer: _What do you mean?_

Her aunt always had been far more perceptive than she let on. And, apparently, she was also far more open-minded than her rural, backwater upbringing would suggest. If Waverly ever did decide to explore her burgeoning attraction for a certain beautiful redheaded deputy, perhaps she could count on at least one ally to fight her corner.

_You know what? It's kinda crazy 'cause I really don't mind  
And you make it better like that_

Whatever others’ reactions, Waverly knew she would always find comfort in Nicole. Whatever storm might be looming over the horizon, Waverly knew she would always find shelter in her arms, in her hands that promised protection, in her eyes that offered reassurance and understanding.

And, really, wasn't that enough?

Hearing the telltale creak of the wooden stairs that signalled approaching footsteps, Waverly hastily wrenched the headphones out of her ears and shoved her phone under her pillow. She was in no mood to talk to anyone right then, not with her mind swirling with such turbulent emotions and unmade decisions. Through partially-closed eyelids, she could see the sliver of light that streaked her bedroom floor and crawled up the nearby wall, a head silhouetted by the landing light peering into the room. A soft voice called her name, quietly enough not to wake her – if, indeed, she had been asleep – and soon departed upon receiving no reply. The room sunk into darkness once more.

Waverly scooped her phone up again. She needed rest, that much was certain, but she _really_ needed to do one more thing before that.

Unlocking the screen, she pulled up her text history with practised hands and tapped Nicole’s name. She couldn’t bear the thought of her lying awake, wrestling with the same anger and doubt over the evening’s disastrous conclusion. Her fingers began to swipe over the keyboard before she had even registered what, exactly, she wanted to say.

_Waverly [11.52pm]: If you can’t sleep, have a listen to a song called ‘I Don’t Care’ by Ed Sheeran. It’s from the same album as the song I played tonight. I think you’ll like it._

Without pausing to reflect on what she had written, she pressed the ‘Send’ button. Then, knowing she needed to add more, she typed: _Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow for breakfast as usual. xx_

Satisfied, Waverly switched her phone to silent, plugged it in to charge, and placed it face-down on the bedside table once more. This time when she closed her eyes, she felt the sweet embrace of sleep welcoming her, the lyrics of the song wrapping tightly around her subconscious as she drifted into a deep slumber.

Unbeknownst to the brunette, all the way across the other side of town, Nicole mirrored her actions, her own headphones whispering Waverly’s unspoken promise into her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention just how obsessed I have become with that Ed Sheeran album? After listening to it for the millionth time when I started writing this chapter, the song I included just fit perfectly with the events of the previous two chapters and I couldn't resist including it. Even if it does include Justin Bieber...
> 
> I suppose we can't all be perfect! Haha.


	17. The Not-Quite-So-Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole listens to Waverly's song suggestion and the breakfast doesn't quite go as planned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm just an outrageous liar who pretends that I won't still write every evening despite being back at work.
> 
> Just a short-ish one here. Again, I planned on keeping the next part in this chapter, but I think that one's going to be a behemoth by itself, so have this little tidbit earlier instead!

Yet again, Nicole couldn’t sleep. She lay awake, staring up at a now overly familiar ceiling, the night’s events running on a constant loop through her mind. She had always known that, eventually, she would have to face the fact that the townsfolk would find out about her sexuality – at least if she was to have any sort of relationship with another woman. _Or…with one particular woman._ But to have it revealed in such a public, humiliating way – and by Champ fucking Hardy, of all people – was not what she had expected when she had upped sticks in the big city, left behind the potential of working in a much larger police department with fantastic career prospects, and hauled her entire life down to Purgatory in a few flimsy cardboard boxes.

And yet she would do it all – minimise her career opportunities, endure the mortification of being outed in front of an entire bar full of drunken idiots – again if it meant meeting Waverly Earp. Whether as friends or more, she knew that she never wanted to envisage her life without the sweet, kind, fiery brunette there beside her.

As if by some twist of fate, Nicole’s phone buzzed on the bed next to her arm. Forgetting that she hadn’t silenced it before lying down, she grabbed it and peered down at the screen. Her face lit up (and not only because of the glare of the device) when she saw the name shining up at her. _She certainly follows through on her word._

_Waverly [11.52pm]: If you can’t sleep, have a listen to a song called ‘I Don’t Care’ by Ed Sheeran. It’s from the same album as the song I played tonight. I think you’ll like it._

Well, that wasn’t _quite_ what she had been anticipating. She hardly had any time to react to the suggestion, however, before another message popped up.

_Waverly [11.52pm]: Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow for breakfast as usual. xx_

Nicole swallowed the invisible lump that had spontaneously lodged in her throat. For whatever reason, she had doubted that Waverly would show up at the diner the next morning; indeed, her promise to ‘text later’ as Nicole had left the truck earlier had sounded an awful lot like a postponement of their daily meet-ups to her dulled ears. Nicole had assumed she would be too embarrassed, too shaken by the turn of events that evening to want to slip so easily back into their routine. And yet, as she had done so many times over the past month, Waverly Earp had surprised her.

Just as she had done not so long ago when she had yielded to the pressure of the patrons’ desire to see her dance her ‘famous number’ (or so Nicole’s whiskey-numbed mind had mistakenly presumed). Never in her wildest dreams would Nicole have ever imagined she would witness such a wonder.

Well, that wasn’t _entirely_ true – the youngest Earp had taken up resident in a good many of her dreams recently, often sporting _that_ cheerleading uniform and moving her body in ways Nicole could only envy and admire.

But to see the real thing – to see her fantasy made flesh and bone and gloriously supple limbs and silky hair – had been more than she had ever dared hope for. After tonight’s debacle, she wondered if she would ever have the pleasure again…

Still relatively wide-awake, Nicole looked back down at her phone and re-read the messages from Waverly. The song intrigued her; if it was anything like the one the brunette had danced to, she was sure she was in for a treat. Tapping the title into YouTube, she chose the official music video and pressed play after grabbing her headphones from the bedside table.

_I'm at a party I don't wanna be at_

Nicole winced at the very first line. _How apt…_

Soon, though, she found herself bobbing her head to the tune, one foot jiggling in time with the rhythm. Waverly was right: she _did_ like it. It was catchy, to say the least, just like the one Waverly had chosen before. Was that why she had recommended it? A cheerful track to take her mind off what had happened?

Deciding that she wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, Nicole repeated the song – once, twice, three times – until some of the lyrics began to sink in, fingernails gently caressing the back of her mind, prodding her to dig deeper.

_I don't like nobody but you  
It's like you're the only one here_

Nicole listened - and listened again. She could feel the lyrics seeping through her very body, teasing goosebumps from her skin despite the relative warmth of the room. It was as though the song had been written just for her, for that very night at the bar with Waverly. The way she had looked at Nicole, the way she had offered that coy smile in the fraction of a pause between dancing – it was as though she had known _precisely_ how her movements were affecting the redhead. As though the track selection and the dance itself had been a deliberate choice to send a very clear signal: _I know what this does to you_.

_And you're making me feel like I'm loved by somebody_

Again, the lump reappeared, but this time it throbbed in her throat and would not go away no matter how many times Nicole tried to swallow past it. If Waverly _had_ chosen this song deliberately – just like the one in the bar – then there were implications there that required careful examination. Staring up at the lightshade, Nicole rued the absence of her faithful arachnid companion (Maria, rest her soul, had curled up and died earlier in the week, presumably from the lack of sustenance in Nicole’s enclosed bedroom). She really _did_ need to get a pet…

Exhaling a shaky breath, Nicole lay down under the blanket, turned the volume down (but still kept the song locked on a loop), and closed her eyes. The song whispered into her ears another five times before she finally succumbed to the lure of sleep.

That night, she dreamt of Waverly dancing again, but this time she was in a cowgirl outfit, an oversized Stetson nestled on her head, and it was just the two of them, alone at last…

***

Waverly tried not to panic when she awoke the next morning to find no reply from Nicole. She had, after all, text her mere minutes to midnight. But it was unusual for the early-riser not to be up and alert by now, and she often sent a ‘good morning’ message as soon as she roused.

 _I’m sure it’s nothing,_ she tried to convince herself as she hastily showered and threw on some clothes.

 _I’m sure she just didn’t feel the need to reply,_ she insisted as she tore past the speed limit down the empty road that meandered into town.

 _I’m sure she’ll be here as usual,_ she hoped as she walked into the diner precisely three minutes after it opened.

Thirty-six minutes crawled by (with Waverly keeping a meticulous count with her watch) and still there was no sign of Nicole. Waverly had exhausted her usual methods of fretting – drumming her fingers on the table, checking her phone every fifty-two seconds, watching the road for any glimpse of a police cruiser – and eventually resigned herself to the fact that it was best to accept the inevitable and return home. The start of Nicole’s shift was rapidly approaching and there was no way she would show up now.

It was as she was reluctantly picking up her bag to leave, payment in hand, that the bell rattled so madly that Waverly thought it would fall off. Looking up, she found a red-faced, breathless Officer Haught hurrying over to her and felt her heart beat a painful _thump_ once, twice in her chest.

‘I’m s-so – s-sorry,’ Nicole wheezed, head bent, one hand clutching her side as she gasped for breath. ‘My – p-phone – ’

Feeling that she may just collapse if she continued trying to pant out her explanation, Waverly guided Nicole into their booth and waited patiently whilst she composed herself.

‘My – phone died – overnight,’ Nicole continued with the occasional brief pause to suck in more air. ‘I use it – for my alarm. So I – overslept.’

Waverly breathed out a soft, imperceptible sigh of relief and grinned: that would certainly explain the incorrectly buttoned shirt and the messy attempt at her customary French braid, then.

‘I thought you always charged it at night?’ she questioned, frowning.

Was it her imagination or did Nicole hesitate before answering?

‘I, um, forgot,’ she said, gratefully accepting the paper cup of coffee that Hetty brought over, the waitress clearly recognising that Nicole was in a hurry today. ‘I was…listening to that song.’

‘All night?’ Waverly murmured, her voice hovering somewhere between a whisper and its normal volume.

Nicole nodded and took a sip of her drink. ‘I, er, fell asleep to it playing on repeat.’

For some unfathomable reason, the simple statement squeezed Waverly’s heart; she felt a warmth suffuse from the centre of her chest, tendrils of gentle heat unfurling and extending to every extremity. _She had listened to it. She liked it._

‘And here I was thinking you hated it so much you had decided never to speak to me again,’ Waverly joked, aiming for a degree of levity that did not reach the hand that trembled in her lap.

‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily,’ Nicole grinned. ‘Even if the song _did_ feature Justin Bieber.’

Waverly was about to retort with a question about Nicole’s own music tastes when another jingle of the bell cut short the thought; she turned her head to find none other than her sister marching towards them.

‘Thought I’d find you here,’ Wynonna said, yawning rather ostentatiously as she shooed Waverly further along the booth and slumped down next to her.

‘Er, good morning to you, too,’ Waverly huffed, scrambling to sit comfortably again. ‘Did the house burn down or something?’

‘No, why?’ The younger Earp cocked one eyebrow, threw her sister a pointed look, then made a show of checking the time on her watch. ‘Oh, hardy har.’

As Hetty bustled over to take Wynonna’s order, Waverly watched Nicole stand up, signalling with a tilt of the head that she had to leave. And, of course, Waverly was trapped, pinned between the window and her (at times) insufferable sister.

‘Wynonna,’ she muttered, prodding her arm. ‘I need to get out.’

‘What? Why?’ Wynonna scowled. ‘I’ve only just got here!’

Waverly’s quick glance at Nicole seemed to remind her sister that, in fact, there was someone else present.

Wynonna gave the redhead a quick nod and her trademark smirk. ‘Deputy Dimples.’

This time it was Nicole’s turn to raise her eyebrows. ‘Run out of puns already?’ she laughed.

‘I’m just too tired to think of one right now. Get back to me.’

Nicole hummed a skeptical response, tipped her hat as a farewell, and turned towards the door. Wynonna, though, was still sitting steadfast, blocking the younger Earp’s exit route. With an exasperated sigh, Waverly unceremoniously shoved her sister out of the way; she was too focused on getting out to even register the uncharacteristic squeal of disapproval that left Wynonna’s lips as she almost tumbled to the floor. Hurrying after Nicole, she caught up to her just as she opened the door and followed her outside.

‘Sorry I can’t stay longer,’ Nicole said as she walked straight to the driver’s side of her cruiser. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

Waverly puckered her lips to repress the automatic response that had leapt to the tip of her tongue. Now was not the time to –

‘How about tonight?’ she found herself asking.

It wasn’t quite the outrageously flirtatious question that she had initially thought of, but it wasn’t exactly subtle, either. Nicole paused, her hand halfway to the handle.

‘After your shift,’ Waverly clarified. ‘You finish early today, right?’ She didn’t know whether to be pleased or embarrassed at the look of surprise that flashed across the redhead’s face upon finding out that, yes, the obsessive planner that was Waverly Earp knew her work schedule. ‘You could…come round to the homestead. Have some food, watch a film, you know. Just relax after last - ’

_Shit. Shut the fuck up, Waverly._

She always did have a bad habit of rambling when she was nervous. Resisting the monumental eye roll she could feel approaching, Waverly clamped her mouth shut, hoping she hadn’t just ruined what, admittedly, probably wasn’t a very exciting proposition, anyway –

‘I’d love to,’ Nicole said, her smile broad enough to earn the new moniker bestowed upon her by Wynonna. ‘I’ll see you around seven?’

‘Sure. See you then.’

Waverly watched until Nicole’s car was out of sight before she wrapped her arms around herself and glided back into the diner, her smile radiant enough to elicit a questioning eyebrow from her sister when she sat down opposite her – in what had now become Nicole’s seat. She ignored the bait and said nothing, instead gesturing to Hetty for another coffee, which she was promptly served.

‘I’m _so_ glad you seem so thrilled to have breakfast with me,’ Wynonna muttered, deadpan.

Waverly rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee, wincing as it scalded her tongue. ‘You know why I needed to speak to her.’

This time Wynonna looked genuinely serious – thoughtful, almost. ‘I do,’ she nodded. Then, after a moment’s pause, she added, ‘How is she doing?’

‘Good…I think. I mean, I didn’t get to speak to her much this morning because she overslept, but she seemed…the same.’

‘She’s a tough nut,’ Wynonna said, voice tinged with just a hint of approval, perhaps even admiration – a fact that would have been lost on anyone but her baby sister. Waverly smiled into her coffee cup and flinched again when she found it still too hot to drink. ‘She’ll be fine.’

Waverly watched as her sister guzzled her coffee and ladled a chunk of syrup-smothered pancake into her mouth; her sudden appearance had shocked Waverly, for her sister had never been known as an early riser. There had to be a reason she was up and about ‘at the ass crack of dawn’, as she would say hyperbolically.

‘So, what really dragged you out of bed this morning?’ she asked innocently, composing her expression into one she hoped seemed vaguely disinterested.

Wynonna looked as though she was going to offer one of her usual sarcastic replies, thought better of it, hesitated, then fixed Waverly with a solemn gaze. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay. You left so early I didn't have the chance to when I woke up.’

‘Oh.’

Tender, sincere, openly compassionate Wynonna so rarely reared her head that Waverly was at a loss as to how to react. Her statement was so simple, so honest, that it caught her off guard.

‘Last night was a veritable shitshow, baby girl, and I know you took it harder than you let on,’ Wynonna continued, deliberately looking down at her plate as she cut her next slice of pancake. ‘And I want you to know that you can talk to me. Any time. About anything.’

Unbidden, tears sprung to Waverly’s eyes and she hastily wiped them away with the sleeve of her jacket, trying her hardest to sniffle as quietly as she could. The memory of a head peering through her door the night before surfaced in her mind’s eye.

‘It was you who looked in on me last night,’ she murmured, running a finger around the rim of her mug.

‘Yeah. Who else would it have been?’

In all honesty, Waverly had assumed it had been Gus; the voice had been too low to discern whose it was and she hadn’t been able to make out any distinctive features through her almost-closed eyes because the figure had been silhouetted against the landing light. Waverly had always known that Wynonna cared, in her own way, but she had never shared it as candidly as she was right then.

Suddenly, she felt a near-unbearable urge to unburden herself on her sister, to allow all of her thoughts and fears and hopes and doubts to spill onto the table before them, consequences be damned.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she drank the rest of her coffee far too quickly, slid her eyes back up to Wynonna’s face, and said the only thing she could think of to convey her feelings.

‘Thank you.’

It didn’t do justice to the overwhelming gratitude she felt, to the rush of affection that washed over her as she watched her sister scoff an enormous bite of pancake, dribbles of sticky syrup running down her chin. Yet the nod Wynonna gave her, the steady look she offered, told Waverly that she understood nevertheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, I'm feeling a pattern emerge and I'm not sure I like it. Need to do something to shake everything up, I think! Stay tuned...


	18. The Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly cooks a meal for Nicole and comes to a significant decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, by this point, pay no attention to whatever I say about getting chapters up. Even I don't trust myself any more!

Within forty minutes of leaving the station at the end of her shift, Nicole was already hurrying through her front door, freshly-showered and now respectably attired. She grimaced at the memory of Nedley’s disapproving eyebrow when she had burst through the station doors that morning, buttons done up incorrectly and hair a mess. Nicole Haught had always prided herself on looking immaculate in her uniform, and this rare lapse pained her as much as it had the Sheriff. He had said nothing to her as she had slunk past him and snuck into the bathroom to sort herself out, yet his look alone had been enough to convince her _never_ to enter the station in similar fashion ever again.

Still, that awkward start to her morning behind her, Nicole was now cruising through the town, keeping her speed within touching distance of the limit. When it wasn’t pressed to the clutch to change gear, her left leg bounced against the seat, muscles rippling with frayed threads of tangled nerves. As much as she had tried not to, Nicole couldn’t help but pick apart Waverly’s invitation in her mind. When she had offered to ‘make it up’ to Waverly, she had been imagining something innocuous: buying her an extra coffee that week, or arriving at the diner a little earlier to atone for the lost time that morning. Yet the speed with which Waverly had replied, the adorable way she had rambled her explanation after Nicole had hesitated for a split second to make sure she had heard the question correctly – it all felt as though it meant something.

There had been a shift in their relationship the previous night, there was no doubt about that. Waverly’s dance, her knowing look, the comfort she had offered through touch alone as Gus had driven Nicole safely home, the song suggestion, and now the offer to have dinner at her house…

Nicole just prayed she wasn’t reading the signals all wrong.

No, she’d had enough experience to recognise the signs: they were on the cusp of something. Something _more_. Now it was up to Waverly to make the first move; Nicole wouldn’t push and she wouldn’t assume.

So trapped was she within the eye of her stormy thoughts, Nicole almost drove past the (very obvious) turning to the Earps’ homestead. Slamming on her brakes, she pulled the steering wheel sharply, the tyres squealing in protest as the car swerved ninety degrees into the side road. It really was a good thing the Earps lived in the middle of nowhere…

Once the cruiser was safely parked up outside the old house, Nicole took several deep breaths in an effort to calm the roiling of her stomach and the aching thrum of her heart in her chest.

_Whatever happens, happens…_

With a quick nod of her head, Nicole bent down and scooped up the bottle of white wine that had been rolling precariously in the passenger’s foot-well the entire journey (the one drink she had in the fridge, a gift from the station’s secretary as a welcome earlier in the month), then slid out of the car to make her way to the porch.

The door opened before she even had a chance to knock.

‘Hi,’ Waverly beamed.

‘Hi,’ Nicole repeated, her own smile infinitely less charming as she felt her lips quiver. ‘I brought some wine,’ she added quickly, holding up the bottle in a needless show of proof. ‘I didn’t know what you had, or what you might like, so I thought…’

She paused, struck with a sudden realisation. _Shit. Does this make it seem like I think this is a date? What if she doesn’t see it that way?_ Is _this a date?_

Nicole gestured uselessly with her hand, which in no way managed to finish the sentence she had left hanging. To her immense relief, Waverly simply giggled and stepped aside to allow her to enter. Almost instinctively, Nicole swept her gaze around the room, taking in the new decorations that had appeared since her last visit. _God, that feels like so long ago._ Even without asking, she knew that the majority of the purchases had been made by Waverly, the cosy, simple-yet-elegant ensemble very much in-keeping with what Nicole recognised as the younger Earp’s tastes. She had managed to turn a haven of haunting memories into a home to be proud of; Nicole felt her heart swell with an odd sense of pride at the thought.

‘Here, let me,’ Waverly’s soft voice murmured next to her, drawing her attention away from the room at large.

With gentle insistence, the brunette took the bottle from Nicole’s hand and led her into the kitchen. Immediately, the heady aroma of cooking food enveloped her; she felt her stomach growl ravenously, which drew another amused grin from Waverly as she busied herself with finding clean wine glasses.

‘It’ll be ready soon,’ Waverly promised, unscrewing the bottle top and pouring the liquid out with practised hands that revealed her expertise behind the bar.

‘It smells amazing.’

Waverly looked as though she was about to shrug, but caught herself and smiled sheepishly instead. Nicole wondered if her own words from the bar the previous night had stayed with her: _No, Waverly Earp, you don’t get to do that_. She hoped they had.

‘I hope you don’t mind it being vegan,’ Waverly said tentatively.

‘I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me, especially when it smells this good.’

Waverly turned to hide the faint blush that stained her cheeks, but it was too late – Nicole had noticed. And she was determined that, one day, her compliments wouldn’t provoke such embarrassment within the youngest Earp. She deserved so much more than simple praise for her cooking skills, after all.

‘So, where’s Wynonna?’ Nicole asked, easing the conversation away from a subject that threatened silence.

‘Out,’ Waverly replied as she handed the redhead a full glass of wine.

Nicole chuckled. ‘Well, I figured that much.’

‘She, um – she went to my aunt’s for dinner. To talk, you know.’ The way Waverly averted her eyes for the briefest of moments told Nicole that she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she refrained from probing.

‘I see.’

‘They don’t really get along, so – I may have… _encouraged_ her to spend some quality time alone with Gus.’ The words tumbled out of her mouth, as though she was desperate to finish her sentence before Nicole had time to ask any further questions. ‘Anyway, the food should be done by now.’

Quickly turning her back to the redhead, she bustled about the kitchen, turning the oven off and grabbing an oven mitt to handle the hot dish. Nicole’s stomach gurgled once more and she shook her head: why was it she was always starving whenever they ended up with a quiet moment alone in this house?

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long for that basic need to be satisfied. Within minutes, Waverly had served them both a generous portion of the most appetising lasagne Nicole had ever seen. Granted, she didn’t eat Italian food all that often, but that wasn’t the point.

‘ _Et voilà_ ,’ Waverly announced in perfectly-accented French, her face split by a pleased, broad smile. ‘ _Bon appétit_.’

Nicole raised her glass in a celebratory toast and gulped down a large mouthful of the wine. She had never heard Waverly speak French before, but she was beginning to understand why some deemed it the most romantic language in the world. She thought she just might be able to listen to the brunette speak it forever…

_Perhaps I should learn it, too,_ she contemplated vaguely.

‘So how was work – once you got there?’

Nicole glanced up from her plate just in time to see the smirk tugging at Waverly’s lips, distorted slightly by the wine glass as she took a sip.

‘Slow,’ she replied, avoiding the bait, only the slightest twinkle in her brown eyes betraying her amusement. ‘If it wasn’t for Mrs. Johnson’s cat, I’d probably never leave the station.’

This time Waverly wore a full-blown grin. ‘More war wounds from your constant battle with Macavity?’

‘Nope. I went prepared.’ Nicole leant across the table and whispered dramatically, ‘I wore riot gloves.’

She sat back and revelled in the coughing fit she had provoked as Waverly had attempted to drink some more wine but ended up laughing and spluttering into the glass instead. Regaining her composure, she raised her eyebrows, her disbelief plain to see.

‘You didn’t.’

‘I did.’

‘And Nedley just let you do that?’

‘He told me to,’ Nicole laughed, remembering the _very_ serious look the Sheriff had given her as he had handed her the heavy-duty gloves.

‘Oh my god,’ Waverly breathed through her own mirth. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘I don’t think he likes cats much,’ Nicole mused aloud.

The rest of the meal passed in much the same way as their breakfasts did – with easy conversation and much amusement. Not for the first time, Nicole had to remind herself that she had only known the youngest Earp for less than a month – and yet it felt like so much longer, so relaxed and comfortable were they together. She had never experienced a friendship like it. But then, she had never met someone like Waverly before. She was certainly unique, in more ways than one.

Predictably, when the time came to clear away, the brunette tried to shoo her out of the kitchen, refusing any and all help Nicole attempted to offer. ‘You’re a guest,’ she insisted and actually attempted to push Nicole into the living room. ‘Go and choose a film from the drawer under the TV. I’ll be done in a few minutes.’

Though she could have easily overpowered the (admittedly spirited and deceptively strong) younger woman, Nicole conceded and did as instructed. She found said drawer and ran her fingers along the titles on the DVD boxes, pausing occasionally to lift one out and inspect it further. Nicole had always preferred action films about law enforcement (shocking) or hard-hitting dramas, but she forced herself to consider what Waverly might like. Comedies? _Romance?_ A particularly vivid, gold-lettered title jumped out at her and she took it out. _The Greatest Showman?_ It was a musical, a genre to which she usually paid very little attention, but the premise intrigued her and it sounded like it would be an upbeat option. Something that would match Waverly’s personality. Something that would take their minds off the previous night…

Nicole slipped the disk into the DVD player and settled onto the couch, leaving the film on the menu screen until Waverly eventually joined her, bringing two more glasses of wine with her. Her gaze landed on the TV screen as she nestled into the seat next to Nicole.

‘Oh, I haven’t seen this film yet,’ she said, pulling the blanket over her legs and offering the other end to Nicole. ‘I picked it up a while ago but never got around to watching it. It’s meant to be really good.’

‘I’ve never heard of it,’ Nicole admitted.

‘Not a musicals fan?’ Waverly replied with a smile.

‘Er, no, not really.’

The trace of a frown on Waverly’s brow revealed her confusion at the redhead’s choice of film in light of that admission. ‘We can watch something else if you like…?’

‘No, this is good. It’s about time I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and took a chance on something new.’

Nicole’s words had been innocently meant, yet the look that passed over Waverly’s face as she had said them, as well as the large gulp of wine she hastily swallowed, suggested she had interpreted them entirely differently; Nicole noticed the slight tremor of her hand as she reached for the remote to start the film.

_The cusp of something…_

***

Waverly was thoroughly enjoying the film. She had always liked musicals; despite everyone else’s objections in the McCready household, she had spent many a weekend watching all the classics: _Singin’ in the Rain_ , _Seven Brides for Seven Brothers_ , _The Sound of Music_. The latter, in particular, was her all-time favourite. It was such an uplifting film, filled with the hope and promise of a way to battle through hardships and find a family of one’s own, blood-related or not. It had resonated with her as a child, and did so no less now that she was an adult. If anything, the feeling had only intensified with time.

It was with this thought lodged firmly in her mind that she inched closer to Nicole, shuffling along the couch under the pretence of making herself more comfortable, so that her head rested against the arm that was slung over the back of the sofa. The only sign that Nicole had noticed was the slight crook in her elbow as she bent her forearm slightly – otherwise she remained impassive, eyes fixed on the TV.

As the film wore on and the chill of the night air outside bled through the cracks in the old building, Waverly found herself shivering in spite of the blanket and the three glasses of wine that now coursed through her bloodstream. There was _one_ other thing she could do to alleviate the problem, but even three glasses wasn’t enough to nudge her to take that final step. So, she sat there – legs curled under her, arms scrunched into her chest, teeth chattering – and tried her best to focus on the second half of the film.

After nearly ten minutes of this, her now bone-cold shuddering drew Nicole’s attention, and she turned her head to look down at Waverly, touching the top of her arm with her warm hand.

‘You’re freezing,’ she murmured.

‘I always run cold,’ Waverly replied. ‘No matter how many blankets and layers of clothing. It’s no big deal.’

Nicole was silent for a moment, and then she shifted slightly on the couch, turning her body towards Waverly. ‘Here,’ she said, wrapping her right arm around the brunette’s shoulder and pressing with gentle fingers.

It took Waverly a moment to realise Nicole was offering herself up as a human radiator; she couldn’t deny that it was tempting, in more ways than one…

‘Oh, I’m – are you sure?’

Nicole chuckled and pulled Waverly close, allowing her to huddle against her side and tugging the blanket so that it covered her body completely. Almost immediately, Waverly could feel a welcome warmth leaching through her thin jumper. A few minutes more and her whole body was suffused with a pleasant heat, the cosiness of the blanket aided by the (apparently unconscious) way that Nicole’s thumb caressed the top of Waverly’s arm and the subtle hint of vanilla that clung to her shirt.

The downside?

It took all of Waverly’s concentration to focus her wine-addled brain on the film now. She _really_ wanted to pay attention, for she was genuinely enjoying it. But the rapid beat that her heart drummed in her chest and the sudden dryness of her throat were hard to ignore.

And then came three minutes and thirty-seven seconds that finally forced Waverly to the edge of the cliff.

She watched as Zendaya marched away from Zac Efron, as he began to sing, and from the very first line, she understood…

_You know I want you_ _  
It's not a secret I try to hide  
I know you want me_

The pounding in her ears was now so loud it was a wonder she could even still hear the song. Yet hear it she did…and more besides. The lyrics seemed to reach through the screen, invisible fingers grasping her own, guiding her.

_But you're here in my heart_ _  
So who can stop me if I decide  
That you're my destiny?_

She felt her own hand unfold from her lap, felt it move, almost of its own accord.

_What if we rewrite the stars?_ _  
Say you were made to be mine_

Felt it brush the fabric of an unfamiliar shirt.

_Nothing could keep us apart_ _  
You'd be the one I was meant to find_

Felt the soft cotton graze her fingertips as they edged closer.

_It's up to you, and it's up to me_ _  
No one can say what we get to be_

Felt her fingers curl into the material, clutching it tightly.

_Maybe the world could be ours_ _  
Tonight_

She leant back and arched her neck to look at Nicole’s face. The movement alerted the redhead to the fact that something was different, and she peered down at Waverly; the automatic concern in her tender gaze only made the brunette’s heart race faster. She could stare into those honey-brown eyes for an eternity, could lose herself in them…

‘Waverly…’

Nicole’s voice was barely even a whisper, whatever thought she had wanted to express dying in her throat as she watched Waverly manoeuvre herself that she was eye-to-eye with the other woman.

The song filtering through the television speakers reached its crescendo, but neither one noticed.

Nicole’s face only inches from her own precluded everything else for Waverly.

Her hand finally releasing its tight grip on Nicole’s shirt, it found its way instead to her cheek, hovering close enough to feel the tiny hairs, brushing the creamy skin with curious, trembling fingertips. Nicole leant into the touch, gently, so that Waverly’s hand cupped her cheek, feeling the warmth as it bloomed pink beneath the contact. Her thumb stroked along the ridge of the perfectly defined cheekbone. She felt her body being drawn closer, as though pulled by an invisible, insistent string – one that had been wrapped around them both since the moment Nicole had first marched into the bar and into Waverly’s life.

They were so close now that Waverly could feel the hot breaths that Nicole exhaled in short bursts tickling her skin, the sweet scent of the wine lacing each one. She watched as the tip of Nicole’s tongue darted out and ran between her lips.

Waverly bit her own bottom lip, hard enough to feel the pinch.

She was at the cliff edge.

_Time to fall or fly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Waverly just work out her feelings through another song? Yes, yes she did. Don't we all?
> 
> The song was just too perfect (again), and it's one of my favourites, so I couldn't resist (again).
> 
> Did I also just leave you with an awful cliffhanger? Yes, yes I did.
> 
> What do we reckon? More Wynonnus Interruptus, or will they seal the deal with a kiss? Stay tuned...hehehe...


	19. The Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which special things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think I would leave you agonising all week long to find out what happens?
> 
> As if.
> 
> Also, I know those song placements were convoluted as hell, but what can I say. Let's chalk these past few chapters up to the 'musical episode' of the story and leave it at that!
> 
> Anyhoo, without further ado folks, here it is: the moment of truth...

Nicole barely had time to register the small hand grasping the fabric of her shirt just over her abdomen before she felt Waverly shift beside her. Assuming something was wrong, she turned her head to peer at her…

…and felt the breath leave her body in a strangled exhale at the look in the hazel eyes that met hers.

‘Waverly…’

Nicole wasn’t even sure if she had managed to utter the name, so soft was her voice. All she could do was watch as Waverly drew herself up to eye-level, as her hand reached up towards Nicole’s cheek, drifting close enough to send a thrill down the redhead’s spine. The light brush of Waverly’s fingertips made her swallow hard, her throat suddenly tight. She instinctively leaned into the touch, delighting in the way it made her heart beat thrum in her ears, so loudly she couldn’t even hear the film any more. Nothing else mattered except the sensation of Waverly’s hand on her skin, the way her hazel eyes flitted across Nicole’s face, taking in every inch, the tender caress of her thumb along her cheekbone.

Still, she was motionless, allowing Waverly to take control, to explore, to decide. The movement of her tongue as she flicked it out to moisten her lips was an unconscious one, but the reciprocal action Waverly took as she bit her own bottom lip almost severed any self-restraint Nicole had left. She leant forwards until her forehead rested against the brunette’s, and for a long moment, neither of them moved.

Waverly seemed to be making her mind up, her laboured breathing the only sound Nicole could hear through the pounding in her ears.

Then, ever so slowly, she closed the distance between them, her lips brushing against Nicole’s for two hesitant seconds before she pressed them firmly together.

All other concerns melted into oblivion as one thought hummed in Nicole’s mind: _Holy shit, I’m kissing Waverly Earp._

It was unhurried, chaste, both of them taking their time to ease into the kiss. Nicole just about registered Waverly’s left arm snaking around the back of her neck, her trembling fingers tangling in auburn hair, her other hand still cupping Nicole’s cheek. In turn, Nicole wrapped one arm around the brunette’s back, pulling her closer until they were flush against one another. She could feel the warmth radiating from the usually ice-cold young woman: through the fingertips that still massaged her neck, through the thin jumper she wore, and through the insistent pressure of her lips.

It was only when her lungs cried out for oxygen, burning deep within her chest, that Nicole drew back, just enough to break the contact. She breathed through a laugh, still too stunned even to attempt voicing her thoughts right then; Waverly, it seemed, felt the same way. A smile grew wide on her face, nourished by the mutual grin that split Nicole’s own.

Weeks of yearning, of convincing herself that Waverly could never return her affection, had led to this moment. And what a glorious moment it was...

Her lungs now oxygenated once more – and taking the silence as the cue to learn even more about the beautiful woman in front of her – Nicole leant forwards again and –

– promptly jumped backwards at the sound of someone scrabbling at the front door. Muffled voices seemed to be arguing outside. Neither Waverly nor Nicole moved from the sofa, both staring in the direction of the hallway, now a respectable distance between them since being startled apart.

Finally, the door was thrown open and Wynonna stumbled through, followed quickly by Gus and Curtis. It was the older woman’s expression that Nicole noticed first; as her eyes flitted between the two women on the couch, a soft, almost imperceptible smile graced her weary face. Her gaze lingered on Waverly, a silent conversation seeming to pass between them, and Gus nodded.

The older Earp’s bleary eyes, however, found Nicole.

‘Haught-to-Trot!’ she slurred, staggering into the living room.

Nicole chuckled. _Trust Wynonna to finally come up with an original pun when she won’t even remember it in the morning._

‘Waves!’ Wynonna continued, collapsing onto the sofa and throwing her arms around her sister’s neck.

Waverly patted her awkwardly on the back as she threw her aunt a questioning look over Wynonna’s shoulder. Gus simply shook her head and rolled her eyes; Nicole could have sworn she heard her mutter ‘dam’ fool’ as she wandered into the kitchen. Curtis, on the other hand, settled into the armchair, looking immensely proud.

‘Wynonna, your lip is bleeding!’ Waverly suddenly cried, leaning away from her sister so she could scrutinise her face.

‘Ohhh, that? Pshaw. It was nothin’.’

‘The other guy came off far worse, trust me,’ Curtis chuckled.

‘Don’t encourage her!’ came Gus’ irritable shout.

Curtis simply shrugged and winked at Waverly, who still did not look at all reassured; if anything, her uncle’s nonchalant attitude towards his niece’s minor injury only seemed to exasperate her further.

‘What happened? Who was it?’ she asked, the pitch of her voice rising slightly as her eyes darted between the two.

‘Tha' fucker,’ Wynonna garbled as she rested her head against the back of the couch and said no more.

‘She spotted Champ trying to sneak up to his apartment at _Shorty’s_ ,’ Curtis explained, trying – and very much failing – to suppress a grin. ‘So she followed him up an' gave him a piece of ‘er mind. An’ maybe a fist or three.’

Nicole frowned. _At Shorty’s? But Waverly said…_

She looked over at the brunette, who quickly averted her own eyes, focusing her attention on her uncle instead.

‘Tha’’ – Wynonna produced a sound that was halfway between a hiccough and a burp – ‘prick des’rved it. Don’ worry, Dimples’ – she rolled her head to fix Nicole with a lopsided smirk – ‘I go’ your back.’

Nicole felt a surge of affection for the drunken idiot sitting before her: Wynonna had punched Hardy for _her_ sake. Catching Waverly’s eye then, Nicole knew she felt the same way, for she took hold of her sister’s hand in both of hers and squeezed it tightly.

‘This is what happens when you drink too much,’ she sighed, the gentle admonishment lacking any real bite.

‘But I on’y did what you asked,’ Wynonna protested weakly. ‘Stay outta your way tonigh’. Like you said.’

The deep blush that painted Waverly’s cheeks and her wide eyes finally revealed the truth: she had deliberately asked Wynonna to be absent from the house for the evening. Nicole couldn’t help but smile.

Waverly coughed. ‘So how did you get the split lip?’ she asked quickly, noticeably less annoyed as she ran a gentle finger over the cut. ‘Surely Champ didn’t…?’

Nicole felt a sharp stab of anger in her gut as she pictured Hardy daring to lay a finger on Wynonna; her fingers curled into a tight ball, but –

‘No, not him,’ Curtis clarified. ‘Some other guy as we were leavin’. She spilled his beer and knocked 'im on his ass, so he lashed out.’

‘And she’s damn lucky Nedley took her side for once,’ Gus huffed, walking back into the room with two glasses of water: one for her niece and one for her husband (who was, Nicole now realised, not exactly sober, either).

‘He did?’ Nicole asked before she could stop herself.

She knew well the Sheriff’s distaste for the older Earp’s chequered history with the Purgatory SD; he was forever promising Nicole that, one day, she would be called out to an incident involving her. To hear that he had defended her even after she had provoked the altercation seemed unlikely, to say the least.

‘Yep,’ Curtis replied. ‘Carted 'im off to the drunk tank for the night an' told us to get ‘er to bed.’

He laughed as he finished his sentence, but he was the only one. Gus appeared annoyed, Waverly confused, and Wynonna…

Wynonna was now snoring loudly, exhaling snuffled snorts as her head lolled against the back of the sofa. Gus let out an audible ‘tut’ and wrapped her fingers around her husband’s wrist, hauling him to his feet.

‘We’ve gotta go,’ she told Waverly. ‘This one needs his bed, too.’

‘I told ya, I’m fine,’ Curtis grumbled, but allowed his wife to lead him towards the front door all the same.

‘We’ll see ya later, darlin’,’ Gus called out with one last look at her youngest niece. ‘You take care o’ yourself, too,’ she added to Nicole, who nodded and returned the farewell.

Now alone with the near-prone Wynonna (who was, by now, slowly sliding down the sofa as she slept), Waverly and Nicole shared a quick, amused look and burst into fits of muffled laughter.

‘I’ll help you get her upstairs,’ Nicole chuckled, bending to ease her arm around Wynonna’s back, the other gripping one wrist and pulling it around her own shoulder.

After turning the TV off, Waverly took the other arm and, with much cursing (from all three of them, the older Earp mumbling oaths as she slumbered) and even more stumbling, they managed to drag the inebriated woman up the stairs and ease her into her bed. Waverly knelt down to take her boots off before standing and leaning closer to her sister, brushing a lock of hair from her face with tender fingers.

‘I better go,’ Nicole said softly as Waverly straightened up.

‘Okay,’ the brunette replied, taking Nicole’s hands in hers and peering down at them. ‘See you tomorrow?’

Nicole bowed her head and pressed a gentle kiss to Waverly’s temple. ‘You couldn’t keep me away if you tried.’

Beaming, Waverly nodded. She watched as Nicole moved to the doorway before turning back to tend to her sister, once again bending down to stroke her cheek. Nicole let her gaze linger for a long moment, her heart swelling with warmth and tenderness at the sight, before she slipped down the stairs and out of the house, silently vowing to give _The Greatest Showman_ a glowing, ten-star review on IMDB when she returned home.

***

By the time Waverly arrived at the diner the next morning, Nicole was already there, sitting in her car and watching the rear view mirror for the first sign of the brunette. She hopped out of the cruiser as soon as Waverly drew near, all pearly-white smiles and the deepest dimples Waverly had seen yet. Before either one could speak first, the door to the diner was pulled open and Hetty grinned at them, ushering them inside.

‘I should start a loyalty scheme just for you two,’ she laughed. ‘I swear you’re the only ones keeping us afloat some days.’

With that, she bustled away to fetch their orders without even asking, leaving Waverly and Nicole to make their way to their usual booth. They slid into their seats and simply stared across the table at one another, mirroring each other’s doting expression. Neither one could quite find the words to express what they longed to say, so they remained silent until Hetty handed them their breakfasts a few minutes later.

‘So…’ Nicole began after taking a galvanising sip of her coffee.

‘Yeah…’ Waverly replied after swallowing a mouthful of her pastry.

So much for their easy conversations.

Eventually, Nicole cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Thank you for a lovely night. I had a great time.’

_In so many ways…_

Waverly almost blushed at her own thoughts before realising that she had – _Thank God_ – not said them aloud. Her eyes drifted down to the table, to Nicole’s hand resting next to her plate; with a quick glance around to make sure that no one was around, she reached across and grasped the hand in her own, intertwining their fingers. Nicole simply smiled as she dragged her thumb over Waverly’s knuckles.

‘So, I’ve been thinking,’ Nicole said, breaking the comfortable silence once more, ‘are you free on Friday?’

Finally, Waverly found her voice. ‘I’m meant to be working a shift at _Shorty’s_ , but I’m sure I can get it changed. Why?’

‘It’s my day off, and I want to go to the pet rescue.’

Well, that wasn’t what Waverly had been expecting to hear. ‘You...want a dog?’

Nicole shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t, not with my erratic shifts and long hours. A cat would be much better.’

Waverly considered this for a moment before nodding her approval. ‘Makes sense. What brought this on, though?’

‘Well, since Maria died – ’

‘Sorry, _who_?’ Waverly interrupted.

‘Maria, my eight-legged companion. She died earlier this week.’

It took a long moment to sink in, but when it finally did, Waverly’s eyebrows shot up as her eyes widened. She smothered her snort of laughter with her free hand, watched by an extremely patient Nicole.

‘I’m sorry,’ Waverly said, still fighting the smirk that threatened to appear. ‘Please, continue.’

Nicole quirked an eyebrow, the gleam in her eye the only sign of her own amusement. ‘As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted’ – Waverly squeezed her hand tightly and sucked her lips between her teeth to avoid grinning – ‘since Maria, rest her soul, sadly passed away, I’ve had no one to talk to at home.’

The mirth evaporated as Waverly quickly turned serious and fixed Nicole with hazel eyes that shone with sincerity. ‘You know you can talk to me. About anything. Any time.’

‘Not about this, I can’t,’ Nicole said solemnly with a sad shake of her head.

Waverly felt her heart thump painfully in her chest and she gripped the redhead’s hand so hard Nicole actually winced. ‘What? Why not?’

Holding her gaze, Nicole leaned forwards and whispered, ‘Because you already know how insanely happy I am about last night.’

Waverly could feel pinpricks of warmth tickling her cheeks; the look in Nicole’s eyes didn’t exactly help the situation, either. If she guessed correctly – and Waverly was usually _very_ intuitive – then they were both thinking the very same thing, both recalling the very same fateful minutes that had changed things between them forever.

‘Oh,’ she said stupidly.

‘I’d like you to come with me,’ Nicole continued, serious once again. ‘To choose.’

This time, Waverly couldn’t stop the smile that lit up her entire face. ‘Oh!’ she breathed. ‘I would love to!’

‘Good, then it’s settled. Let me know for definite when you’ve managed to trade your shift.’

Nodding her head enthusiastically, Waverly silently vowed to head straight to the bar once leaving the diner to ensure that fact. There was _no way_ she was letting Nicole choose her future furry companion without her help.

It was, as they say, a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you secretly thought I would do you dirty and include one of Wynonna's infamous interruptions before they could kiss, but no...
> 
> I did both!
> 
> I also don't usually write fluff/romance like this, so I find it VERY difficult to do well. So please don't judge too harshly hahaha.
> 
> But phew, a lot of dialogue in there. Didn't realise there was quite so much until I re-read it...eeeh.
> 
> Also (perhaps not so) fun fact: I always intended for Waverly to finally find the courage to make a move with 'Rewrite the Stars' (the Ed Sheeran one came later as it was just too perfect for that chapter's events), but I had initially envisaged it as a (gasp!) karaoke scene with Nicole and Waverly. However, when it was clear it was a choice between sexy Waverly dance or karaoke, I knew it was no contest. And besides, as the moment drew nearer, I realised it should be more tender than light-hearted. Thus, here we are...
> 
> Also, no more epiphanies through song, I promise!


	20. The Sort-of-Maybe Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly and Nicole visit the pet rescue centre to adopt a furry companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out much longer than I expected! Thus, I had to cut it in half once again. The next half will, hopefully, materialise over the weekend.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy a bit of shameless fluff as we meet another of our beloved Purgatorians.
> 
> (Side note: I now have a non-work Twitter account for all things Wynonna Earp, so feel free to come listen to more of my inane ramblings and suffer my occasional GIF frenzies @Bennet871, if you feel like it!)

To her immense frustration, Nicole was working the late shifts every night until her day off, so she had been unable to see Waverly outside of their usual breakfast routine. Though they had kept up a continuous stream of texts back and forth throughout the week (replete with questions for each other such as _‘So what type of cat are you looking for?’_ and ‘ _Any other song recommendations that perfectly describe my life right now?’_ , to which Waverly had sent a link for John Waite’s ‘Missing You’), it would never satisfy the intense longing Nicole had to hold Waverly’s hand, to stare into those beautiful eyes, to kiss her again.

Thus, it was with no small amount of elation that she answered the door to the enthusiastic knocking early Friday morning. Nicole was beaming even before she pulled it open and looked down at the brunette standing before her.

‘Ready?’ Waverly said, bouncing on the heels of her feet, clearly excited by their plans for the day.

‘Almost,’ Nicole replied, glancing over Waverly’s shoulder before grasping her wrist lightly and tugging her inside the house.

‘Wh – ’

Waverly didn’t even manage to get one word out before Nicole had pushed the door shut and leaned down to pull her into a long, leisurely kiss. Almost automatically, Waverly’s arms wrapped around her neck, fingertips caressing the exposed skin she found there. Nicole felt her smile against her lips as she drew back slightly, just enough to gaze into hazel eyes.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Couldn’t help myself. I’ve been waiting all week to do that.’

Waverly giggled. ‘So have I.’

Fearing that she would simply lose herself in that sound, in those eyes, and in the way the corners of Waverly’s eyes wrinkled as she smiled ( _Double figures now_ ), Nicole took a step back, slender hands grasping smaller ones between gentle fingers.

‘Before we go, though,’ she began, hesitating as she fought to find the right words, ‘I…I need to say something.’ The look of panic that flickered over Waverly’s face sent a pang of guilt straight to Nicole’s gut, and she quickly continued. ‘No, it’s not – it’s nothing bad, I promise. I just – ’ She heaved a frustrated sigh, realising just how much she was floundering despite practising this exact speech several times over the past few days. ‘I just want to make sure you’re okay with all of this.’ Waverly appeared ready to interrupt, but the squeeze Nicole gave her hands stopped her. ‘What I mean is – you _just_ broke up with Champ’ – even the name felt dirty on her tongue, like a bad taste she couldn’t get rid of – ‘and I want you to know that we don’t have to rush anything. If you need to take a step back at any time, then that’s fine. I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes for you to process everything. You’re setting the pace here.’

Waverly was silent for a long moment. She stared up at Nicole, her gaze almost unnerving as she seemed to seriously consider her words.

Then, slowly, she raised her hand to stroke Nicole’s cheek, her touch so tender and so warm that the redhead almost melted into it.

‘How did I get so lucky?’ Waverly murmured, so quietly that Nicole wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it. Then, louder and firmer now: ‘I may have only broken up with him recently, but Champ and I were done a long time ago.’ The certainty in her voice, the earnestness that settled in her hazel eyes, made Nicole’s heart swell just a little bit more. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of something in my life.’

Nicole exhaled a shaky breath, relief flooding her body. It was everything she had needed to hear, and so much more besides.

And yet, she couldn’t help it…

‘I know you haven’t been…in a relationship like this before,’ she said, ignoring the voice in her head that screamed at her to _Shutthehellup_ , ‘so, we’ll go slowly, okay? As I said, you’re in control.’

‘It doesn’t bother me,’ Waverly insisted. ‘Maybe it should, but it doesn’t. I’ve agonised over it enough the past few weeks and I finally realised: this just…feels right, you know?’

Nicole breathed through a laugh. Oh god, did she know…

‘Okay,’ she said instead. ‘Okay,’ once more, as though to reassure herself.

They stood there a while longer, looking at one another, smiling at one another, neither one wanting to disturb the perfect moment.

That is, until Waverly’s phone buzzed in her back pocket, startling them both. She whipped it out and let out a groan as she looked down at the screen before answering.

‘Yes?’ she huffed.

Nicole was close enough to hear the sarcastic reply on the other end. ‘Not exactly the Waverly welcome I was expecting, sis.’

‘Wynonna,’ Waverly sighed. ‘What do you want?’

‘I went to the diner to find you, but Hetty said you didn’t turn up today. Neither of you.’

Nicole swallowed, recognising the reference to herself. Apparently, their daily meet-ups had become rather public knowledge, even outside of the diner.

‘I didn’t go today. I’ve got…plans.’ Waverly’s eyes darted up to Nicole’s and she pulled a face as if to ask: _What do I say?_

There was a momentary silence on the other end, as though Wynonna was trying to piece together the fragments of an invisible puzzle. ‘These ‘plans’’ – Nicole almost _heard_ the air quotes – ‘do they involve a certain redheaded deputy, by any chance?’ Again, Waverly glanced at Nicole, eyes wide this time; the pause was apparently enough for Wynonna to slot the final jigsaw piece into place. ‘Hey, Haught Pants!’ she yelled through the phone, making Waverly wince at the volume and move the phone away from her ear.

‘Heard it before!’ Nicole called back, trying not to laugh as she caught Waverly’s eye.

‘Fuck sake,’ they heard Wynonna mutter.

‘Anyway, got to go!’ Waverly said brightly. ‘Going to get a cat! Love you, bye!’

‘Wait, wh – ’

But Wynonna wasn’t afforded the opportunity to ask her question as Waverly hung up on her and burst into a fit of giggles. Nicole’s mind filled with images of Wynonna’s stunned expression as she stared down at her phone, of the dawning realisation of what was going on between her baby sister and ‘new friend’, of the ‘big sister’ talk she would no doubt have to endure in the coming weeks…

She gulped.

‘Do you…do you think she knows?’ she asked. ‘About us?’

Waverly smothered her laughter and considered the question.

Eventually, she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. She’s never been the most…observant person.’ Nicole’s expression apparently betrayed her cynicism, for Waverly added: ‘Honestly, she’s oblivious most of the time. The last time she returned to Purgatory, it took her weeks to realise that I was with Champ. And he’s not exactly _subtle_ with his…affection.’

She grimaced, nose wrinkling as she said the final word with no small amount of hesitation. Nicole nodded. She had no idea how the older Earp would react to their budding romance, but it would be revealed only when Waverly was ready. Not before. If that meant she could only kiss her when they were alone in one of their respective homes, then so be it; Nicole would gladly suffer the torment.

‘I _will_ tell her,’ Waverly murmured, taking Nicole’s hands in hers once more and seeming to read her thoughts. ‘I just need to think it all through first.’ Nicole nodded and brushed her thumb over Waverly’s knuckles to convey her understanding. ‘Gus knows, though.’

Surprised, Nicole snapped her head up. ‘She does?’

‘Yeah,’ Waverly replied. ‘She’s the complete _opposite_ of Wynonna. She sees _everything_.’ The complete lack of concern that the brunette displayed at such an admission soothed any lingering doubts that clung to Nicole’s mind. ‘I mean, she hasn’t said anything, and I haven’t told her. But yeah, she definitely knows.’ Waverly took a deep breath, and then grinned up at Nicole again. ‘Anyway, let’s go! I can’t _wait_ to see which adorable kitty we get to rescue!’

As Waverly turned to tug her out of the house, Nicole could only focus on one thing: _She said ‘we’…_

***

When they pulled up outside of the pet rescue centre a little while later, Waverly could hardly contain her excitement. As a child, she had longed for a pet of her own – a companion in whom she could confide, who would love her unconditionally – but had always been left disappointed. Her father had scoffed at the idea, telling her it would just die anyway, so it was a pointless waste of time and money; Gus and Curtis, on the other hand, had enough animals roaming the ranch to deal with another, so she never asked, even though they probably would have done anything for their youngest niece. So, Waverly had been left short one furry friend.

Until now, that was.

Practically dragging Nicole into the building, she marched up to the reception desk and beamed at the portly woman tapping away at an old computer.

‘Hi!’ she trilled, startling the poor woman with her exuberance. ‘We’d like to adopt a rescue cat, if you have any here?’

Either Waverly’s enthusiasm was infectious, or her words were music to the woman’s ears, for she immediately returned the wide smile and nodded. ‘We do! I’m so glad you want to provide a forever home for one of the darlings.’ She shuffled some papers around on her desk and fished out an application form. ‘We’ll just need you to fill this in, and then we’ll have a quick chat about your situations and see which kitty will suit you best.’

Waverly realised belatedly that the woman was addressing her alone. ‘Oh! It won’t live with me,’ she explained in a rush and turned to Nicole.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ The woman chuckled apologetically and handed the form to the redhead. ‘I assumed you’d be adopting together.’

The casual, matter-of-fact manner in which she spoke stunned Waverly into silence. She stared at the receptionist – perhaps a little too hard and for a little too long, enough to force her to look at Nicole instead, her smile faltering slightly. _She doesn’t care,_ Waverly thought. _She assumes we’re together and she doesn’t care._ In that moment, Waverly felt an odd compulsion to envelop the stranger in a tight hug, but Nicole’s gentle tug of her hand as she led her to the nearby seats effectively killed the impulse.

They sat down, Nicole frowning at the form for a minute as she filled in the required information, before she eventually looked up at Waverly, who had still said nothing.

‘You okay?’ she murmured, covering Waverly’s hands with her own as they rested in her lap. ‘You’ve been quiet since she gave me the form.’

Waverly shook her head, but it took a few moments before she found her voice. ‘It’s just…what she said,’ she replied, keeping her voice low so the receptionist couldn’t overhear her. ‘She thought we were together.’

Nicole’s frown became more pronounced, deep grooves furrowing her brow. ‘Well, aren’t we?’ she asked, tone playful despite her expression.

Waverly winced as she realised how poorly she had worded her statement. ‘No, I mean – she knew we were together and it didn’t even bother her. I – I guess I just didn’t expect it.’

Nicole wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. ‘Not everyone is as backwards as Champ Hardy. There are more enlightened people in the world, even here.’

‘I know,’ Waverly sighed, leaning into Nicole’s side and closing her eyes. ‘It’s just nice to see proof of that.’

She felt Nicole nod against the side of her head. Still holding Waverly close, she continued to complete the application form, resting the clipboard precariously on her legs. Waverly watched as, under the ‘Preferences’ section, Nicole ticked the boxes labelled ‘Older cat’ and ‘With medical concerns’. _Of course she wants to help those most in need,_ she thought. A cloud of affection for the redhead billowed in her chest and made her feel oddly giddy. She really had chosen a good one this time…

Now done with the form, Nicole took hold of Waverly’s hand once more and led her back over to the receptionist, who smiled up at them again.

‘All done?’ she asked brightly. Nicole nodded and handed the clipboard over. ‘Lovely.’ She scanned the form, nodding as she went down the list. ‘This all looks good. Except…here, it says you’re a Sheriff’s deputy.’

‘Yes – is that a problem?’

‘Oh, no – it’s just the long hours I imagine you do, and the fact you live alone…’

Waverly could tell immediately where the conversation was heading: she was about to reject Nicole because she wouldn’t be home enough to look after the cat in its initial settling in stages. She had read about such restrictions when adopting during her extensive research as a teenager, when she still entertained the faint hope that, one day, she may get to do it herself.

‘I’ll be there whenever Nicole’s working,’ she said quickly, pressing Nicole’s hand to warn her not to interrupt. ‘I only work bar shifts, so I’ll be there during the day, and she’ll be there in the evenings.’

It was a bold-faced lie, of course, but Waverly wasn’t about to let a little thing like the truth get in the way of Nicole’s desire to rescue a homeless cat. Because, damn it, she would be an amazing cat-mother.

The woman’s eyes drifted to Nicole, her question plain to see; Nicole simply smiled and nodded her agreement.

‘Well, in that case…’ the receptionist continued, standing up and walking around the desk. ‘Follow me, ladies. I think I have the perfect li’l’ dear for you.’

Waverly and Nicole shared a look – that was somehow simultaneously amazed, excited, and a little guilty – and hurried after her. Distant mewls filtered down the corridor, along with the pungent smell of used cat litter. When they rounded the corner and were faced with four tiny, windowed rooms – each with a different furry inhabitant peering out – Waverly was sure her heart would burst with mingled joy and sorrow. She wanted to scoop each one up and take them _all_ home. How could they choose just _one_?

‘These are the little critters we have in at the moment,’ the woman – whose name, Waverly now realised, she didn’t even know – explained, gesturing unnecessarily in the general direction of the cats. ‘The little guy at the end has been adopted already, but the rest are all waiting for a new home. Why don’t you come and meet them?’

Without any hesitation, Waverly strode further into the room, still dragging Nicole behind her. They both walked slowly along the line of windows, watching as one cat stared back at them, and the next ran away to hide, Waverly wanting nothing more than to reach in and hug each animal.

Until they reached the final one.

A fluffy mass of ginger fur was snuggled against the window, facing away from them as they approached. As they stopped to look in, however, it uncurled itself and sat up to gaze back at them. Waverly put her hand up to touch the glass and gasped – audibly – when the cat extended its paw to do the same, its pink pad settling against the window, right in the middle of Waverly’s palm.

Right then, she knew: this was the one.

‘Oh, it has to be her!’ she cried, turning to beam at the receptionist. Then, with a sudden jolt of embarrassment, she remembered: she wasn’t the one adopting. She looked at Nicole and ducked her head. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured, voice low so that only the redhead could hear. ‘I got carried away. You should choose, obviously.’

‘Hey.’ Nicole bent her head and put her index finger under Waverly’s chin, raising it so that Waverly was forced to gaze into her eyes. ‘We’re _both_ adopting, remember?’

Waverly wasn’t sure whether the comment was purely to keep up the lie in front of the other woman, or whether Nicole was being sincere – either way, she couldn’t help herself as she wrapped Nicole in a rib-crushing embrace, pouring all of her affection into her arms and burying her face in the soft fabric of the vanilla-scented shirt. She had a vague thought that Nicole always, somehow, smelled like vanilla-dipped doughnuts – her absolute favourite dessert – before the receptionist’s voice broke through their intimate moment.

‘I had this girl in mind for you after reading your application.’ She smiled as they both turned to look at her. ‘She’s the oldest one here and has been here the longest.’ Waverly felt as though someone was clutching her heart as she thought of the poor thing watching people come and go, taking the other cats home and leaving her behind every time. ‘She was left outside with a note that just said ‘We can’t look after her anymore’.’ As she thought of her dumped in a box, abandoned by her family. ‘She had an injury to her leg when she was dropped off. We had her operated on, but it didn’t heal well, so she walks with a limp now.’ As she thought of this misfit of a cat never belonging anywhere, never finding a home to call her own. ‘She never had a name.’

Waverly gazed down at the orange fluff ball once more, its keen yellow eyes peering back at her. She was a perfect match – for the both of them, in different ways.

‘Calamity Jane,’ she whispered, brushing the glass with her fingertips. She glanced over her shoulder at Nicole. ‘She’s the protagonist in an old musical, based on a real woman who was known for her compassion for the sick and needy, but she was also a risk-taker and liked to dress in men’s clothes.’

The soft smile that crept onto Nicole’s face as she listened to Waverly’s historical ramble made her heart flutter and her stomach knot; she could feel her hand trembling against the glass at the tenderness that shone through those brown eyes, and it was all Waverly could do not to well up and cry on the spot. She wasn’t used to being looked at in such a way: with such unbridled affection and gentleness. Allowing herself one sniffle only, she turned back to the cat and inhaled a shaky breath to steady herself.

‘We’ll take her,’ said Nicole’s voice behind her.

‘Wonderful!’ the receptionist replied, clapping her hands together. ‘We’ll get the rest of the paperwork complete, photocopy your I.D.s, and then you’ll be able to take her. It’ll take a couple of hours, though, so you’re welcome to come back later instead of hanging around.’

‘That sounds great, thank you,’ Nicole agreed. Waverly felt her hand on her shoulder, fingers massaging it. ‘Maybe we could go get some breakfast?’

Reaching up to take Nicole’s hand in hers, Waverly twisted and nodded her approval. ‘Sounds good.’

‘Lovely,’ the woman beamed as she began to lead them back out to the reception area. ‘I think she’ll be a perfect fit for you. She’s a sweetheart, but a little shy. Once she gets to know you, though, she’ll love you forever.’

Unbidden and taking her completely by surprise, an image surfaced from the depths of Waverly’s mind: Nicole and her, lying on a couch, Calamity Jane sprawled across Waverly’s legs as they watched a film, laughing and wrapped in one another’s arms. Completely innocent. Utterly domestic. So simple, and yet she found herself suddenly yearning for such a future with a desperation that shook her to her core.

_Go slowly,_ she reminded herself, echoing Nicole’s earlier words. _Don’t rush this and ruin it._

It was sensible advice, she knew.

And yet, as they returned to her jeep and decided on a place to eat, she found that indulging in a little daydreaming wasn’t the biggest crime in the world, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As cheesy as the 'cat putting the paw up to the glass' moment may have been, I based it on what happened when I adopted my own boy a couple of years ago. When I went to look at him, he put his paw up to the window and I just KNEW he was the one. So did the lady who worked there, who said she had him (his name's Pepper) in mind for me before I even saw him. I couldn't have planned it better!
> 
> Also, to stop me from literally turning this fic into a musical, I thought I could just list some songs that really fit with the story and the characters in the End Notes as and when one strikes me (barring the one mentioned in this chapter - but no integrated lyrics this time!)
> 
> Embarrassingly, after listening to Ed Sheeran, Spotify has been on a kick recommending everything from Bieber, to Taylor Swift, to One Direction. But, remarkably, it's the latter whose song really hit home this time. One called 'Night Changes', which I thought was rather hauntingly poignant, really, and fit the idea of Waverly's growth of character and and how she is trying to overcome her insecurities about being abandoned by the people she loves as she allows herself to care for Nicole.
> 
> Please don't throw rotten fruit because it's One Direction haha. I'm late to the teen pop party, it seems...


	21. The Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly helps Nicole with Calamity Jane's bedding in period and some secrets are shared, as well as kept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do have a mountain of work to be completing over the next week, so I cannot absolutely promise a speedy update for the next chapter. However, we've all heard that one before, so we'll see!
> 
> In the meantime: welcome home, Calamity Jane! :)

They returned to the centre a couple of hours later to pick up the newly-christened Calamity Jane and escort her to her new home. It had taken a good twenty minutes for the woman to coax the feline from her hiding spot and into the carrier Nicole had purchased half an hour earlier (along with bags of food, treats, toys, a luxury cat bed, and a scratching post). As they finalised the paperwork and Nicole accepted the ‘welcome pack’ from the receptionist, the woman – who, Waverly had finally learned, was called Maggie – fixed them with an amused grin and leaned over the counter.

‘One last thing,’ she said, voice low, comically conspiratorial. ‘I should warn you that she doesn’t really like men all that much. Never did let Jake near her to feed or cuddle her.’

Waverly and Nicole shared a look, each of them fighting their own smirks.

‘I don’t think that’ll be a problem,’ Nicole chuckled.

Maggie took one last, wistful look at the carrier, and Waverly was surprised to find tears in her eyes. ‘I know she’s going to a good home,’ she said quietly, more to herself than the two women.

Another moment more and the cheerful expression was back on her face; she smiled at them as she wished them all the best, and both Waverly and Nicole returned to the jeep enveloped in a thoughtful silence.

Nicole kept the carrier on her lap the entire way home, gripping it tightly and securing it by extending her seatbelt out so that it wrapped around the carrier, too; she crooned through the box as the feline mewled, poking one finger through a tiny gap in an attempt to soothe the frightened animal. Every time Waverly glanced over, her smile widened at the sight.

They pulled up outside Nicole’s house just as the sun was at its zenith in the sky, warming Waverly’s bare arms as she wrapped her light cardigan around her waist and moved to fetch the bags from the back of the vehicle. With some difficulty, Nicole moving slowly to avoid jostling the carrier and upsetting Calamity Jane, they made it inside the house.

‘I read that you should introduce new animals to the house gently,’ Waverly said as she put the bags onto the kitchen table and began to take out Nicole’s purchases. ‘They’re meant to have a room to themselves at first to make them feel safe, with their food, water, and cat litter tray in there, too. That way they can explore at their own pace and get used to the new environment. It’s a territorial thing, apparently.’ When Nicole didn’t reply, she turned around, only to find the redhead watching her, that same soft smile on her lips and tenderness in her honey-coloured eyes that had so affected her at the centre. ‘What?’ Waverly murmured, one hand holding a toy mouse suspended in mid-air.

Nicole shook her head. ‘Nothing. I just love how much you care about these things. Your curiosity, that makes you find out everything you can. It’s…’ She seemed to be remembering something, her expression betraying her amusement, ‘endearing.’

Waverly grinned, recalling the first time Nicole had used that word to describe her. She had seemed embarrassed then, as though the word had slipped out unintentionally and she was afraid of how it would be taken. Yet, it had been one of many moments that had helped to chip away at Waverly’s doubts, that had broken down her guard and finally allowed her to imagine what a life with Nicole Haught could be like.

‘I’m a researcher,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s what I do. When you grow up basically as an only child, it gives you a lot of time to read. Most people find it boring…’

The image of her boxed-up notepads and storied search history on her laptop burned in her mind then, and she hastily dismissed it. She wasn’t sure how _Officer_ Nicole would react to finding out that she had been trying to investigate the incident on the ranch and the likely culprits behind it. It certainly wasn’t _illegal_ , and she hadn’t looked at it in a while, yet she was sure Nicole wouldn’t approve – even if there _was_ relatively little danger involved. She was, after all, only reading about them…

A frantic mewling from the carrier dragged Waverly from her wandering thoughts, and they both peered down at the agitated feline.

‘Oh, baby, I’m sorry,’ Nicole purred, lifting the box up so she could look into it properly. ‘Let’s get you settled in the spare room.’

Smiling at the affectionate term, Waverly dropped the toy she was still clutching and followed Nicole upstairs to her second bedroom; she watched from the doorway as Nicole placed the carrier in the corner of the room and opened it. The redhead stepped backwards until she was just in front of Waverly, both of them waiting to see what would happen.

As it turned out, nothing did. Calamity Jane, living up to the description Maggie had given of her, was far too shy to seize the freedom that beckoned to her. Instead, she huddled at the back of the carrier, her yellow eyes catching the rays of sunshine that sliced through the open blinds and gleaming every so often.

‘I’ll go and get her stuff from downstairs,’ Nicole murmured and slipped past Waverly back into the corridor.

Waverly, on the other hand, sank to the floor and sat cross-legged just inside the room, her back pressed up against the wall and keeping as quiet and as still as possible. Nicole found her in this exact position ten minutes later as she brought two bowls up: one filled with wet food, the other with fresh water. Placing them a short distance away from the carrier, she bent down to peer at the still-nervous cat before moving back to stand over Waverly.

‘Come on,’ she whispered, holding out her hand to the brunette. ‘Let’s give her some space to roam by herself.’

Waverly nodded and accepted the hand, allowing Nicole to pull her into a standing position and following her out of the room after one last glance back at the carrier. When they made it downstairs, she found a cup of herbal tea waiting for her on the coffee table. Apparently, her surprise was evident in her expression.

‘You said you don’t drink much coffee in the afternoon,’ Nicole explained as they sat down. ‘And I know you’ve had this brand a couple of times.’

Waverly blew into the mug and took a sip, feeling the liquid warm her from the inside out. ‘I didn’t think _you_ drank tea, though,’ she replied.

‘I don’t.’

Nestling the mug between her hands to heat them up (even with the brilliant sunshine outside, she felt the chill in the cool house), Waverly considered the short response. Nicole had bought her a brand of tea that she had only seen her drink a handful of times – despite the fact that she had never visited Nicole’s house until this day, and in spite of the fact that she didn’t drink it herself.

‘When did you buy it?’ Waverly asked, eyes fixed on her mug as she pretended to cool the liquid further.

‘Um, about a week and a half ago. After the last time I saw you drink it.’

Clearly, Nicole had been anticipating inviting Waverly around even _before_ the events at the homestead earlier in the week. Waverly smiled into her mug as she took another sip.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and said no more.

Instead, she swept her eyes across the room, taking it in properly. Blue appeared to be the redhead’s favourite colour, which wasn’t a surprise in the least given how many blue shirts Waverly had seen her wear when not in her standard-issue deputy’s uniform. Teal candles, sky-blue curtains, cerulean ornaments – even the wood panelling on the walls contained a tinge of turquoise. It was so beautifully arranged and coordinated, everything in its proper place, down to the neat row of boots lining the wall by the front door.

All in stark contrast to the organised chaos that was the homestead.

The thought of her own home brought a lump to her throat. What she would give to have been raised in relative normality, in the comfort and safety that Nicole’s home offered. Gus and Curtis had tried to provide her with that when they had taken her in, but even their kindness and guidance couldn’t banish the ghosts of the past…

‘You’ve got that look again,’ Nicole whispered, easing Waverly out of her spiralling thoughts. ‘Like you’re far away somewhere.’

‘Just thinking about home,’ Waverly replied. ‘Growing up there compared to somewhere like this.’

Nicole leant forwards to place her own mug on the coffee table (on a coaster, of course) and settled back into the sofa, turning her body towards Waverly so that she could face her properly.

‘I don’t want to pry, and you can tell me to mind my own business any time,’ she began solemnly, ‘but you can talk to me about anything. Whatever it is in your past that still upsets you, you can discuss it with me. I promise I won’t run away screaming.’

Waverly offered a wan smile as Nicole said the last part with an obvious attempt at levity, but shook her head. She _wanted_ to tell Nicole everything, all her dark secrets – about her mother’s abandonment, her father’s indifference, Willa’s cruelty, Wynonna’s frequent absences growing up.

About _that_ night.

But she couldn’t. It was too soon.

She wanted at least _one_ person in Purgatory to retain their unblemished image of her, of the Earp name: her curse. Just for a little while longer.

Apparently sensing this, Nicole swiftly changed the subject. ‘Okay, how about I tell you about _my_ childhood, then.’ She picked up her mug again and drained the rest of her coffee. ‘I know it might seem like I have things together now,’ she began, eyes on Waverly as she spoke, ‘but I didn’t have this sort of stability growing up. I have it _because_ it was missing when I was younger.’ She paused, choosing her words carefully. ‘My parents weren’t around a lot. They dumped me on my aunt and uncle for weeks at a time, on their ranch.’

Waverly smiled as a hazy memory floated before her mind’s eye. ‘That’s why you wanted to be a cattle herder when you were younger.’

Nicole laughed. ‘Yeah, basically. I enjoyed it there, looking after all the animals, and would always miss it when my parents decided to fetch me back. Until the next time, of course.’ She grimaced. ‘When I told them I wanted to be a cop one day, I think that was the last straw. I left for college and never looked back. And I haven’t seen them since.’ She breathed a sigh and waited until Waverly returned her gaze before continuing. ‘No-one has a perfect childhood, Waves.’

Waverly blinked at the use of her nickname; it was the first time Nicole had said it. So casual. So natural. As though it had always belonged on her lips. Another thing that felt right.

Nicole, however, appeared not to have noticed the reaction such a simple thing had effected in Waverly. ‘Some people have it harder than others, sure, but you can’t let it hold you back from making the most of your life. From grabbing life with both hands and fulfilling all of the amazing potential you have.’

If Wynonna could only hear the inspirational advice Nicole was offering right then. Waverly was sure she would be armed with one of her customary quips: ' _She’s like a walking bumper sticker,’_ said with a grimace and feigned antipathy for such optimism, but secretly approving of the message. Waverly smiled at the thought.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that to turn into a lecture,’ Nicole muttered into the silence.

Waverly reached over and grasped her hand before she could turn away. ‘No, it was…perfect,’ she said. ‘And you’re right: I _do_ need to let go of the past, to stop it from controlling me. But…it’s going to take time.’

‘And I’ll be there to help you,’ Nicole replied, wrapping her arm around Waverly’s shoulder and pulling her against her side. ‘Every step of the way.’

An easy silence descended over them, each lost in their own painful memories. Glancing around the room again, Waverly thought she was beginning to understand just _why_ she felt so drawn to Nicole, to the life that she represented, to the security that she offered, and to the unconditional affection she radiated with every action and every word. It was everything she had yearned for since the day her mother had left eighteen long years ago.

And maybe – just _maybe_ – she would find it. If she could only battle the demons that lurked in her past once and for all and accept the life that she deserved.

‘Look who decided to make an entrance,’ Nicole whispered into her ear.

Waverly turned her head towards the stairs, her gaze meeting two yellow eyes as they peered around the corner. Slowly, tentatively, Calamity Jane crept towards the couch, sniffing at different sections of the floor on her cautious journey. Then, crouching into position, she leapt up onto the sofa and settled down at the end furthest from the two women.

Waverly smiled and closed her eyes as she buried her head into the crook between Nicole’s shoulder and chest. ‘Not so shy, after all.’

***

In an effort to help Calamity Jane settle in as soon as possible by minimising the length of time she was left alone, the pair skipped their usual diner breakfasts and, instead, Waverly drove round to Nicole’s house every morning to eat there. She had even found herself fretting during the day when Nicole was at work, wondering how the feline was coping alone in a strange house; several times she had to resist the urge to ask for a spare key so she could make good on the lie she had told Maggie and spend her free time checking in on the new member of Nicole’s family. The cat wasn’t even hers, and yet she worried about her as though she was.

Towards the end of the following week, on the fifth day since Nicole had adopted CJ – as Nicole had started calling her for sake of ease – Waverly arrived at 6.30am as usual (on the dot, for she was nothing if not punctual) and knocked on the door. It was promptly opened by an already-uniformed Nicole, who handed her a fresh mug of coffee and closed the door behind her. Seeing CJ curled up on the couch in ‘her spot’, as it had now been dubbed, Waverly immediately headed to sit next to her; she maintained her distance so as not to disturb the slumbering animal, but had inched closer every morning until she was now within a foot of her.

‘How’s she been?’ she asked her now-customary question, one that Nicole anticipated each morning.

‘She slept on my bed last night,’ Nicole replied as she bustled about getting their pastries ready.

Waverly twisted her head around so fast she felt her neck twinge and she winced. ‘She actually stayed there all night this time?’

Nicole nodded and walked over to settle in next to her. ‘Yep. Found her there when I woke up. She followed me down here as soon as I was ready and hasn’t left that spot since.’

‘Do you think...’ Waverly began, peering at CJ.

‘It’s time to move her stuff out of the spare bedroom?’ Nicole finished. Waverly nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m going to bring her food, water, and tray down before I leave for work.’

Waverly smiled, still gazing at the sleeping animal, who was purring gently in her sleep, her ears twitching every so often as though she was dreaming. ‘Another week or two and she’ll be able to go outside in the garden, too.’

That thought brought with it no small amount of anxiety, however. The fear that CJ could roam too far and encounter a dog or wild animal, or – God forbid – wander out onto the road…

Waverly mentally chastised herself: she couldn’t worry about what _might_ happen. All they – all _Nicole_ , she corrected herself – could do was to make the space as safe and as comfortable as possible for the newest resident of the house.

As soon as she had finished her breakfast, Nicole wandered upstairs to fetch CJ’s things, leaving Waverly alone on the couch. She watched as the feline stretched her front paws out, finally stirring from her doze, and began to clean herself, her leg sticking out at an awkward angle. Waverly giggled at the sight: the cat’s odd habits never failed to amuse her. Once done, CJ fixed her with an unblinking stare, her pupils thin slits, revealing just how relaxed she felt in the brunette’s presence.

Then, without warning, the cat pushed herself up off the sofa and padded onto Waverly’s lap. At first, Waverly didn’t move, so frightened was she of startling the animal. When she didn’t move, however, Waverly raised one hand and began to stroke her head, scratching her behind the ears and beneath her chin; she could feel the vibrating purrs as she continued to lavish the feline with eager attention until she flopped over and curled up on her lap.

Waverly actually gasped aloud.

She was still sitting motionless (apart from the gentle caress of her hand along the length of CJ’s body) when Nicole returned, arms laden with the bowls and litter tray. It was with the biggest grin plastered onto her face that Waverly looked up at the redhead.

‘She likes you,’ Nicole chuckled, moving into the kitchen to clean out the items she still clutched. ‘She’s got good taste, at least.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ Waverly whispered lest she disturb her new friend. ‘Maggie said it would take a while, but just _look_.’

Nicole walked over and leaned down to plant a chaste kiss on Waverly’s lips, smiling broadly. ‘You’re trapped,’ she said quietly. ‘Remember what Maggie said? She’ll love you forever. No getting out now.’

As often happened whenever Nicole disarmed her so completely with such innocent-sounding yet tender statements, Waverly felt a gentle warmth ripple outwards from her chest, her heart thrumming just a little faster as she gazed up into caramel and honey. She wondered, not for the first time, whether Nicole would ever _stop_ making her feel like a giddy school girl with a silly teenage crush.

She certainly hoped not.

‘I need to be heading off soon,’ Nicole sighed. ‘So – ’

Whatever she was about to say, Waverly never found out. At that very moment, her phone began to buzz on the coffee table, its judders against the glass alarming CJ; the cat leapt off her lap in a hurry, clawing Waverly’s legs through her jeans. Wincing, she scooped up the offending article and glared down at the name. _She always has the_ worst _timing,_ she thought irritably.

‘Wynonna, I swear – ’

‘Waverly, shut up and listen,’ came the curt reply from the other end.

The brusque tone as well as the fact that her sister had used her full name (something she only did when she was angry or upset with Waverly) stunned her into silence. Something was wrong…

‘What is it?’ she asked desperately, standing up from the couch and pacing into the middle of the room.

Nicole shot her an inquiring look, frowning as she noted the change in the brunette’s demeanour immediately; Waverly shook her head.

For a long moment, there was no sound from the other end of the line.

Then she heard her sister exhale a shaky breath, and her stomach dropped.

‘It’s Curtis,’ Wynonna murmured. ‘He – he’s dead.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had always planned for poor Curtis to die, just as in the show. Sadly, we couldn't have perfect Wayhaught moments throughout the entire story lest it become repetitive and boring. I also did warn drama would commence to shake up the narrative - so, sorry Curtis. :(
> 
> How and why he died, though, remains to be seen...
> 
> Thoughts? Theories? Natural causes, or not? Stay tuned to find out!


	22. The Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly succumbs to her grief over Curtis' death and Nicole comforts her the only way she knows how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite it being nearly 2am over here (and despite promising myself I would wake up at 7am to continue working), I decided I couldn't leave you on that cliffhanger.
> 
> Thus, here is the follow-up: replete with angst, of course, but also tender moments.
> 
> However, I am almost positive (like, 95%?) that I won't be able to get another up for 2-3 days. I mean, no promises, but I really do need to work haha.

Nicole knew something was wrong the moment Waverly’s tone changed; she couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but the brunette’s panicked expression told its own story. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good news.

She watched as Waverly paced into the middle of the room, her eyes widening in shock at the response she received to her desperate question.

‘… _what_?’ Waverly breathed, her voice little more than a whispered gasp.

Apparently too stunned to talk, she lowered the phone, holding it limply by her side. She began to suck in frantic breaths, her hands trembling as she stared at nothing in particular. Watching as tears sprung to Waverly’s eyes, Nicole hurried over and took the phone from her loose grasp.

‘Wynonna?’ she said, putting a comforting arm around Waverly as she guided her over to the couch. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’

‘Of course she’s with you,’ Wynonna muttered, her words almost lost in a shaky exhale. ‘You need to get her round to the ranch.’ A pause, then: ‘Our uncle is dead.’

Nicole looked down at Waverly, now slumped on the sofa, sobbing into her hands with abandon. The sight made Nicole’s stomach churn and her heart ache with the need to soothe and console and fix.

‘We’ll be there as soon as she’s calmed down.’

‘Good.’

With that, the phone went dead. On any other day, Nicole may have been mildly upset with the abruptness of it all, but today she understood. Placing the phone onto the coffee table, she sat down beside Waverly and pulled her into a tight embrace, allowing her to cry into her chest whilst she stroked her hair and whispered into her ear.

‘I know, baby,’ she murmured. ‘I know.’

They stayed like that for an undetermined length of time until Waverly’s crying began to subside into deep breaths and the occasional sniffle, Nicole rocking her in her arms all the while. Eventually, the brunette drew back, wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her blouse. Still she said nothing.

‘I’m going to ring Nedley and tell him I’m taking you to the ranch,’ Nicole said softly, squeezing Waverly’s hands between her own. ‘He’s probably there anyway. We’ll head over once I’ve sorted out CJ’s stuff.’

She received no reply, only the smallest of nods in recognition. Not wanting to leave Waverly to her own thoughts for longer than necessary, Nicole hastened to the kitchen and bustled about putting food and water into CJ’s now-clean bowls and laying fresh litter down in her tray. With a quick glance over at the sofa, she boiled the kettle and took the only to-go cup she owned, filling it with fresh herbal tea. _Just in case._ It was unlikely Waverly would drink it, but there was no harm in offering it.

As soon as Nicole had fetched the remainder of her uniform and holstered her gun, she wrapped gentle fingers around Waverly’s upper arm and led her out of the front door and into her police cruiser.

The journey to the ranch was a sombre one. Waverly sat in utter silence, clasping the hot drink between her hands but drinking none of it; Nicole glanced over at her more times than she could count, noticing with a pang that her eyes remained glazed as she stared down at her own feet the whole way.

When they pulled up outside of the McCready household, both Wynonna and Gus were already there, the older woman talking to Nedley. The older Earp, however, was standing a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest and watching the car pull up through narrowed eyes. Once Nicole had opened the passenger door and taken Waverly’s hand to guide her out, she walked her over to her sister. Before she had a chance to offer any form of condolences, though, Wynonna had closed the gap between them, fingers balled into fists at her side.

‘ _You_ ,’ she growled, glowering at Nicole. She shoved her – hard – and Nicole stumbled backwards, caught off guard by the sheer force of the action. ‘Why the _fuck_ didn’t you do anything?’

Her wanton fury seemed to shatter the grief-induced trance that enveloped Waverly and she rushed forwards to seize her sister’s wrists.

‘Get _off_ me, Waverly,’ Wynonna hissed, wrenching her arms free and moving towards Nicole again.

But Waverly moved to block her, standing between Wynonna and her prey, her face contorted with her own anguished rage. ‘Wynonna, _stop_ ,’ she bristled. ‘This has _nothing_ to do with Nicole.’

Wynonna stopped her efforts to tackle Nicole again, instead fixing her seething scowl on the younger Earp. ‘The fuck it doesn’t,’ she snapped. ‘She _promised_ to catch the bastards, and _now_ look. They fucking _murdered_ our uncle.’

‘It’s _not_ her fault,’ Waverly insisted, her anger fading slightly but voice still stern, body still planted firmly between her sister and Nicole. ‘If you want to blame someone, make sure it’s the right person. _Don’t_ lash out at Nicole.’

Wynonna scoffed derisively but said no more. Shooting one last wrathful glare at the redhead, she stormed away. Both women watched as she jumped into Gus’ truck and sped away, tyres squealing as they kicked up clouds of dust and grass behind them. Nicole could feel her breathing becoming more ragged as the vehicle disappeared into the distance, a tremor rippling through her hands. _Wynonna’s right,_ she thought bitterly. _I promised…_

A sudden rush of bile swirled in her stomach, burning her throat as she swallowed roughly; she fought the overwhelming urge to punch something – _anything_ – to relieve the anger currently clawing at her insides.

‘Hey,’ came a soft voice from behind. Small fingers grasped her trembling hand and pulled her around.

Nicole averted her eyes from Waverly’s penetrating gaze, forcing deep breaths out through her nose as she watched Nedley scribbling notes into his pad over her shoulder.

‘Nicole,’ Waverly tried again. Gentle. Insistent. ‘Look at me.’

Tears welled in the brunette’s eyes again, but she refused to shed them as she slid her hands up to Nicole’s face, cupping her cheeks. Nicole shook her head, but Waverly didn’t let go.

‘It’s _not_ your fault,’ she repeated. ‘Wynonna’s just angry and lashing out. It’s what she does.’

‘But she’s right,’ Nicole croaked, throat like sandpaper, words like knives. ‘I didn’t do anything. And I – I promised. I promised _all_ of you.’

‘You couldn’t have done anything,’ Waverly murmured, thumb caressing one cheek.

It was true, of course. Nicole knew that. She had tried her damndest to find something – _anything_ – to link the Revenant gang to the first crime, one measly clue that might give her grounds to search their encampment at the old trailer park and haul them into the station. Long nights had slipped through her fingers as she had pored over all of the records they had squirreled away over the years, but it had been futile. Nedley had been right: there was _nothing_ to connect them. And she would _never_ stoop to dirty methods to achieve her aim, no matter how desperately she wanted to resolve the problem.

The sound of heavy footfalls nearby made Waverly turn; Nicole looked up to see Nedley and Gus walking towards them, wearing the same grim expressions. One glance at Gus was enough to crumble the last trace of Waverly’s resolve and she flung herself into her aunt’s arms, weeping once more.

Nicole, meanwhile, met Nedley’s grave gaze with one of her own. ‘Have you found out anything useful?’ she asked, relieved to note that she was able to keep her voice steady this time.

Nedley shook his head. ‘Same as last time. Nothin'.’

‘And Curtis…?’

Nedley breathed a sigh, its depths telling of his own hidden grief. ‘Jumped early this mornin' when he went to check on the cows. He was alone out there. None of the ranch-boys had arrived yet.’

‘Who found him?’ Nicole asked, silently praying it wasn’t Gus.

‘Champ Hardy. First one to arrive.’

Whilst that tidbit of information surprised her, Nicole kept her expression impassive. Now was not the time to mock that asshole, no matter how tempting it was.

‘Cause of death?’

Nicole had a vague thought that she was glad Waverly could not hear the conversation; it was impersonal, business-like. Cold.

‘Blow to the head, looks like. We’ll know more once the coroner performs the autopsy.’

‘But _why_?’ Nicole couldn’t help but ask the obvious question, one to which she knew they had no answer…yet.

Again, Nedley shook his head. ‘No idea. But this seems personal. First Gretel, now Curtis himself. Someone’s harbourin’ a bad grudge here.’

_That_ much was evident. But who? And why? What could anyone _possibly_ have against a humble, kind-hearted rancher like Curtis McCready?

‘Anyway,’ Nedley continued, pocketing his notebook. ‘There’s nothin' else to do here. No-one saw anythin'. There’s nothin' to find.’ He grunted his frustration and put his hand on Nicole’s shoulder. ‘Lonnie and I will handle the rest of the day.’ He glanced over his shoulder at Gus and Waverly. ‘You just make sure she gets home okay.’

Nicole frowned as Nedley shuffled past her towards his own car, dropped into the driver’s seat, and drove away with a last wave to Gus. She had been certain it would be ‘all hands on deck’, as usual. And yet here she was, with an assignment she had not been expecting. Not that she would complain, of course; the only thing on her mind right then was comforting Waverly, consoling her, which meant she likely would have been useless back at the station. _She_ knew that.

But how did Nedley?

Nicole suddenly became aware that the others were watching her, and she looked up to find both Waverly and Gus’ eyes on her. She closed the distance between them, her expression conveying her sorrow more effectively than any words could.

‘Mrs McCready, I’m _so_ sorry,’ she offered, knowing nothing she said would help in the slightest.

To her relief – and, if she was being honest, her surprise – Gus simply shook her head. ‘Not your fault,’ she replied. ‘And, for heaven’s sake, call me Gus. Any friend’ – the flicker of a smile touched her lips – ‘of Waverly’s uses my firs’ name.’

Nicole nodded. ‘If there’s _anything_ I can do…’

Another empty promise. For what could anyone do to fix something so permanent as death?

‘You jus’ take care of this one,’ Gus said, squeezing Waverly’s shoulder. She released her hold on Waverly, who immediately fell into Nicole’s embrace instead. ‘Go on, get ‘er home. Can’t do nothin’ here, anyway.’

‘But,’ Waverly began, twisting her head to look at her aunt, ‘you’ll be alone.’

This time, the smile that ghosted Gus’ lips was all too sad, one that suggested resignation and…acceptance. ‘I’m fine,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve got a lot I need to do now, and it’s best I do it alone, anyway.’

Waverly seemed unconvinced, but offered no further opposition. Apparently, Gus McCready wasn’t one to brook an argument.

‘Now, shoo, go on,’ she said, waving her hands at them. ‘I’ll see you later.’

And as though to put an end to the conversation, she turned and walked towards the house without another word. The women watched until the porch door closed behind her, and then Nicole drew back, taking Waverly’s hand in hers.

‘Come on,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll take you home.’

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur of untouched drinks, unwatched films, unimportant conversations, and silences punctuated by bouts of crying. They spent the time huddled on the couch in the homestead, Nicole holding Waverly as closely and as tightly as she could, only letting go whenever her – or Waverly’s – bladder could hold on no longer.

Eventually, dusk drew in around them, the burnt orange of the sunset staining everything it touched with a golden haze. They had been sitting in silence for a long while, neither one paying any attention to the TV, when Waverly finally spoke.

‘I’ve always hated this house,’ she murmured.

The sudden sound surprised Nicole; Waverly had been quiet for so long that it took her a moment to register her words. Instead of replying, however, she simply listened, allowing Waverly the time and space to formulate her thoughts and elaborate.

‘Even when mama was still with us, I hated it. I never felt as though I belonged here. Wynonna and Willa were older and inseparable. I was always the odd one out, the annoying baby sister that they didn’t want hanging around them.’

She paused, and Nicole began to believe she would say no more, until she drew in a deep breath and continued.

‘When mama left, it got worse. Daddy became even more distant with me and started drinking, so he was often angry and took it out on me, shouting at me all the time for no real reason. Willa was his perfect daughter, and Wynonna was…well, Wynonna. But me…’ Nicole felt her swallow, and sigh. ‘Nothing I did was ever good enough. I got the best reports at school, the highest praise from the teachers, but it didn’t matter. It was like I was invisible in this house. So I’d shut myself in my room and read. I read all the books on my shelf at least three times each. It was the only time I felt happy, losing myself in different worlds and imagining what life could be like, if only I was someone else. If only I wasn’t an Earp.’

This time the pause stretched on for minutes. Still Nicole said nothing as she rubbed her hand up and down Waverly’s arm in a gesture of comfort, showing her she was still listening.

‘And then _that_ night happened, and everything changed so much, so quickly. Willa was gone, daddy was dead, and we were left with Gus and Curtis. It took a while, but eventually I felt like I had a family. A _proper_ family. With parents who loved me for me, and not for who they wished I was. But Wynonna…she struggled. She acted out at school, got in trouble with the law every other weekend, until finally she went too far and ended up in juvie.’

Despite not prying into the Earps’ history, Nicole had heard that much about Wynonna. Her brushes with law enforcement were legendary amongst the town’s lonely gossip-mongers, after all.

‘And so I was left, an only child, more or less. Gus was a hardass’ – she chuckled affectionately – ‘but she only ever wanted the best for me – for us _both_. And Curtis…’

Waverly’s voice finally broke and she trailed off, fresh tears springing to her eyes. Nicole could feel her body trembling in her arms, and she pulled her impossibly closer. The brunette didn’t speak again for a long time; it seemed that the conversation was over…at least for now.

Night had fallen properly by this point, the only light source the flickering TV screen in front of them, the only sound the low murmurs and soft music issuing from its speakers. When Waverly’s body began to shudder with racking sobs, Nicole whispered into her ear, kissing the top of her head over and over again until they subsided once more. She had lost count of the number of times they had repeated this pattern throughout the day. Yet repeat it they would, until Waverly found the strength to stop, or became too tired to continue.

Silence descended once more: the calm _after_ the storm, before the next one would erupt.

This time, Waverly leaned out of Nicole’s embrace to peer up at the redhead, the tear tracks that streaked her face glistening in the dim glow of the television. Nicole reached up to cup her cheeks with her hands, wiping away the last teardrops with her thumbs before tucking rogue strands of hair behind her ear. Waverly’s eyes never left hers the entire time, her gaze piercing, intensified by the raw grief that still left her hands trembling. Knowing that words would be useless, Nicole bent her head to press a light kiss to her lips instead. She had intended it as a simple gesture of comfort, but, as she drew back, she felt Waverly’s hands on the collar of her shirt, pulling the redhead towards her again.

_This_ kiss was anything but chaste. It was desperate, fervent, charged with a need to _touch_ and to _do_ , with a desire to forget how to think and feel. Waverly’s hands slid up the length of Nicole’s arms until one was wrapped around her neck, the other tangled in auburn hair. Nicole’s own settled on the other woman’s thigh, thumb etching soothing patterns through her jeans. Then, twisting round so that her front was pressed against Nicole’s, Waverly’s hands began to wander down, quivering fingers grappling with the buttons of the redhead’s shirt.

It was only when Nicole felt the cool night air on the bare skin of her chest that she sat back, grasping Waverly’s hands with her own and stilling them. Both sucked in deep, ragged breaths as they stared at one another, frustration and longing written clearly on Waverly’s face.

‘Waves, no,’ Nicole whispered, holding her gaze. ‘Not like this. Not when you’re upset.’

Waverly let out a shaky sigh and rested her forehead against Nicole’s, nodding slowly. They sat like this until both of them had regained their self-control, until their breathing steadied and all thoughts of going further had been quelled.

‘I’m exhausted,’ Waverly murmured eventually.

Nicole smiled and raised a hand to stroke her cheek. ‘Let’s get you to bed, then.’

The brunette offered no word of protest, allowing herself to be led upstairs to her bedroom, fingers entwined with Nicole’s and gripping them tightly. Without even bothering to undress, she flopped onto her bed, face buried in her pillow as Nicole set about tugging the blankets and bunching them around her.

‘Stay with me?’ Waverly whispered, turning her head to look at Nicole. The redhead’s hesitation must have shown, for she quickly added: ‘Just to sleep. I – I’d rather not be alone tonight.’

‘Okay,’ Nicole replied.

Waverly held up the corners of all four blankets, allowing Nicole to slip into the bed beside her. Facing away from her, Waverly took her arm and pulled it across her own body, clutching it to her chest whilst Nicole huddled as close to Waverly as she could, burying her face in soft waves of mousy hair.

And despite the traumatic events of the day and the storm of emotions that raged within her – the still-raw grief, the tears that had left her dehydrated and with a pounding headache, the gnawing apprehension for Gus and Wynonna – Waverly slept through the night for the first time in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...this one was difficult. How to capture raw grief from different perspectives (in terms of how different characters deal with it). Hopefully I did it justice despite the mammoth amount of dialogue (I hate chapters where there's too much dialogue and not enough description, but I seem to be doing it a lot lately...hmm.)
> 
> Apologies if there are awkwardly-written parts or typos anywhere - I am almost falling asleep here, but wanted to get this one up before diving into work again tomorrow. I'll have another look over it when I get a spare 10 minutes tomorrow to make sure, so don't be surprised if it gets edited!


	23. The Awkward Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which tension abounds in the Earp household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as has become customary of late, I stopped this chapter short - the rest of it will be included in the subsequent update, which I think will be a lot longer given what I have planned for it. We shall see!
> 
> Meanwhile, let's see what awkwardness the next morning entails...

For a few blissful minutes, Waverly felt nothing but contentment. Coaxed from her deep slumber by the warm caress of the sun’s rays on her face, she smiled softly, allowing herself to ease into consciousness before her eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for her to register the gentle pressure of an arm wrapped around her, fingers brushing the sliver of exposed skin around her abdomen, her blouse having bunched up during the night. As carefully as she could, Waverly twisted her body around so that she was facing the still-sleeping figure nuzzled into the pillow beside her.

She had always known, of course, but Nicole Haught really _was_ gorgeous – even more so up close. Waverly’s eyes traced the line of her strong jaw as it disappeared beneath copper hair, its natural lustre accentuated by the radiance of the ruddy sunrise; they flitted over her lips, slightly parted, still inviting; they roamed over her closed eyes, admiring the perfection of her long lashes, and landed on the tiny mole that nestled perfectly at the peak of her defined cheekbone. Her hand left the comfort of the layered blankets and reached out towards milky skin, one finger grazing the sun-darkened mark.

Waverly found herself wondering what other secrets were waiting to be discovered within the hidden parts of Nicole’s body…

Hazel eyes flickered back to find brown ones open and watching her, the depth and beauty of the caramel gaze stealing her breath.

‘Hey,’ Nicole whispered, voice husky with sleep. A lazy smile crept onto her face as she blinked slowly. ‘How did you sleep?’

‘Good,’ Waverly admitted. ‘It’s the first time I’ve slept through the night in a long while.’

As she spoke, she felt fingertips skimming the small of her back, the light touch sending a shiver up the length of her spine. It had always been a sensitive area for her – _not_ that she was about to admit that to Nicole.

Not yet, anyway…

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she murmured, momentarily averting her eyes. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘You don’t need to apologise,’ Nicole replied. Waverly smiled at the déjà vu this time. ‘It was a rough day.’

Waverly nodded, and they said nothing more about it.

It was as they lay there, enjoying the tranquillity that only the hour of encroaching dawn offered, relishing the time the silence afforded them to simply study one another in this new situation, that a sudden realisation startled Waverly. She sat bolt upright, heart pounding in her chest; Nicole pushed herself up, too, eyes wide as she took in the brunette’s fretful expression.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked desperately, hands seeking Waverly’s.

‘CJ,’ she replied. Nicole’s worry subsided into a deep frown. ‘She’s been alone since yesterday morning. And – her food. She wouldn’t have had enough.’

Waverly scrambled out of all four blankets, kicking them off her body and clambering off the bed. She hurried over to her wardrobe and began to yank clothes off hangers at random. It was only once she heard the soft chuckle behind her that she turned around to look at Nicole, still sitting comfortably on the bed.

‘There’s no need to panic,’ she said slowly. ‘I put extra down yesterday because I knew I would be out for the rest of the day.’

Waverly shook her head, arms laden with tops and skirts and fresh underwear. ‘But it’s been _twenty-four hours_ ,’ she insisted. ‘She’s probably starving by now.’

Ignoring whatever further protest Nicole was about to make, she dashed out of the room and set about stripping off yesterday’s outfit and taking a quick shower; so concerned was she with speed that she didn’t even take the time to revel in the stinging heat of the water as she usually would.

Within ten minutes she was done – teeth brushed, clad in a new, vaguely coordinated outfit, hair somewhat disentangled – and back into the corridor. She was two feet from her own room when she saw the door of Wynonna’s open and her sister shuffle out into the hallway. They looked at one another for a long moment and Waverly knew that, just as she was, Wynonna was recalling their last conversation. Neither of them spoke, the Earp stubbornness too ingrained into the fabric of their character for either one to break the ice.

Yet Waverly prided herself on being the bigger person in situations like this, so she huffed a sigh and folded her arms across her chest.

‘I’m glad you got back okay,’ she said, aiming for as neutral a tone as possible with the image of her sister attacking Nicole still fresh in her mind.

Wynonna nodded, the simple action making her clutch her stomach and purse her lips together, presumably to avoid vomiting. ‘I take it Haught brought you home yesterday,’ she muttered.

Waverly didn’t miss the correct use of Nicole’s surname, devoid of her usual sarcasm. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. She paused, weighing up her options, before deciding to give in to the desire to speak her mind. ‘It wasn’t fair, what you said.’ She shot a pointed look at her sister, waiting until Wynonna met her gaze with a defiant one of her own. ‘It _wasn’t_ her fault.’

Waverly could see Wynonna’s jaw clenching, the tiny muscles around her temples pulsing as she gritted her teeth; then, unexpectedly, her shoulders slumped and she exhaled a resigned sigh.

‘I know.’

She looked so small, so defeated in that moment that the last remnants of Waverly’s irritation melted away and she wrapped her arms around her sister’s shoulders, one hand rubbing her back and tears welling in her own eyes. Waverly reminded herself that, after all, grief could take many forms, even if some of them were irrational and selfish and misguided.

Eventually, they drew apart, Wynonna still looking ashen and a little green.

‘So,’ she began, working to inject her words with some of her customary cheeriness, ‘what are your big plans for today?’

Waverly’s eyes darted to her bedroom door, still ajar but not enough to reveal the other figure that waited within. How to explain _that_ away to her overly-protective older sister?

When she returned her gaze, it was to find blue eyes flicking between her own and the same door, a frown creasing her sister’s brow. Waverly swallowed.

‘I’m going to grab some breakfast’ – she tactfully avoided mentioning where – ‘and then I’ll go over to check on Gus. She insisted that we leave her alone yesterday and I’m worried about her.’

The slow nod that Wynonna gave as she continued to stare at the door suggested that she was only half-listening to this explanation. ‘Right. Breakfast with a hot redhead, hm?’

Her heart skipped the smallest of beats as Waverly watched her sister peer through the tiny gap into her bedroom, before abruptly reaching out and flinging it open all the way. Nicole was sitting on the edge of the bed (now made perfectly), hair still tousled from sleep; she stood up as Wynonna edged into the room, eyes flitting between both Earp sisters.

‘Morning,’ Wynonna said, her tone and expression inscrutable as she looked at Nicole.

‘Wynonna,’ Nicole returned in greeting. She hesitated, appearing to come to some decision. ‘I’m _so_ sorry about…what happened. I honestly tried to look into it, but – ’

Wynonna waved a dismissive hand. ‘Look, I know you couldn’t have done anything. Forget about it.’ She took another step, moving further into the room. ‘I’m more interested in _why_ you’re in my baby sister’s bedroom at the ass crack of dawn, with hair that suggests you slept in that very bed.’

Waverly quickly slipped past her and stood to the side of the other two women, ready to intervene if necessary – again. ‘I didn’t want to be alone last night,’ she explained in a hurry. ‘I was upset and worried and you weren’t home yet. So I asked Nicole to stay with me.’

Her sister’s raised eyebrows spoke of her scepticism, even before she uttered her question. ‘In your bed?’

Out of the corner of her eye, Waverly could see Nicole’s mouth open and close, as though she wanted to say something in support, but couldn’t work out what, precisely, would help.

But Waverly didn’t _need_ any help. She set her jaw and raised her chin defiantly, fixing Wynonna with an unblinking stare.

‘Yes.’

The silence that greeted the solitary word seemed to drag on, billowing out between them until Waverly almost succumbed to the urge to follow up her curt answer with further explanations – although _which_ explanation, she hadn’t determined.

Should she claim they were only friends? That Nicole had offered comfort through her company alone?

Or admit the truth: that her baby sister was in an unofficial relationship with a woman without even having discussed her attraction with the one person in whom she used to confide everything? That Nicole’s gentle touch was, really, the best – the _only_ – remedy for her pain and misery?

Thankfully, Wynonna spared her the agony of attempting to resolve the dilemma.

‘Okay,’ came her equally brief response.

And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving a rather stunned Waverly staring at the open door, blinking her surprise.

‘Well, I’d say that went quite well,’ Nicole ventured, placing a hand on Waverly’s shoulder. ‘I mean, she’s hard to read most of the time, but…’

‘No, that was good,’ Waverly agreed. ‘She wasn’t angry any more, at least.’

A pause, then: ‘Do you think she’s guessed?’

Wasn’t _that_ the million-dollar question. For once, Waverly wasn’t sure of the answer. _Had_ Wynonna concluded – correctly – that there was something romantic going on between them, or had she assumed – obliviously – that they were still platonic?

Waverly breathed a soft sigh. It really _would_ be easier just to admit the truth and let the pieces fall where they may…

But right now, with everything else going on, with both of them still processing the shock and grief from the day before, with everything they needed to sort out – right now wasn’t the best time.

So, she buried it further into the deepest recesses of her mind, resolving to revisit the issue when the dust had settled.

‘Anyway, are you ready?’ Waverly asked, hurrying to hang up the outfits she had decided against.

Nicole grinned. ‘I’m telling you, she’ll be fine.’

She still allowed Waverly to tug her out of the room and down the stairs nevertheless. Waverly had shoved on a pair of boots and grabbed her purse and was about to call out a hasty goodbye to Wynonna when said sister appeared at the top of the stairs, looking altogether the worse for wear; one hand was wrapped around her stomach, the other wiping her wet face.

‘Remind me not to steal Shorty’s most expensive whiskey ever again,’ she grumbled. Nicole shook her head, clearly torn between amusement and her dedication to uphold all facets of the law; she decided on silence instead. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll come with,’ Wynonna continued, addressing Waverly. ‘I could eat a million pancakes right now.’

As she turned to shuffle away, Waverly spared a quick look at Nicole, who simply shrugged.

‘Erm, we’re not going straight to the diner,’ she called out; Wynonna stopped in her slow tracks and peered down the stairs. ‘I – we need to pick up my jeep first.’

Waverly winced. Her deliberate ambiguity was sure to invite unwanted questions. Questions that would require answers involving skipped diner breakfasts to visit Nicole and her new pet _every morning_ that week and the fact that, actually, they hadn’t been planning on going to the diner, anyway. Wilting under the piercing gaze of her increasingly suspicious sister, Waverly scrambled to think of an excuse.

‘How about I take you to get your jeep, then come back to pick Wynonna up and we meet you at the diner?’ Nicole offered. ‘I’ll call Nedley and tell him I’ll be a little late. He’ll understand.’

Waverly twisted around to shoot the redhead a sharp look, one that roughly translated to: _What the hell are you doing?_ Nicole didn’t react, instead focusing her attention on the older Earp still watching them from the top landing, waiting for her reply.

‘Fine,’ came the eventual response. ‘Gives me more time to freshen up, anyway.’ Wynonna nodded at Waverly. ‘See you at the diner.’

Waverly waited until she heard the bedroom door shut behind her before wheeling around to face Nicole once more. ‘But we’re not _going_ to the diner,’ she protested as Nicole took her hand and led her out of the front door. ‘We’re having breakfast at yours with CJ – who, by the way, has been alone for an entire day – and then I need to get to Gus.’

They slid into their respective seats in Nicole’s car, Waverly still awaiting an explanation.

‘A change of plan won’t hurt,’ Nicole shrugged, turning the ignition and easing the car down the drive and off Earp land. ‘We’ll go feed CJ, make sure she’s fine – which she _will_ be – get your jeep, then I’ll come back here and pick up Wynonna. She shouldn’t be alone right now, either.’

The statement landed like a punch to Waverly’s gut; the simple truth, offered so candidly and compassionately, made her insides curl with a sudden, intense twinge of guilt. She hadn’t even been thinking of what Wynonna might need right then…

‘You know her better than anyone,’ Nicole continued, apparently oblivious to the brunette’s inner turmoil, ‘but offering to join us seems to me to be her way of reaching out.’

Waverly nodded slowly and turned her head to look out of the window at the passing barren fields so that the other woman wouldn’t see the tears that had gathered in her eyes, wouldn’t notice the conflicting emotions that warred for control over her expression.

The gentle hand that rested on her leg told her the effort had been in vain.

‘Besides,’ Nicole began again, ‘after yesterday, I think your sister and I need to talk some things through.’

Oh, to be a fly on the wall when _that_ conversation took place. Waverly could feel a thin thread of anxiety coil around her heart, finally unravelling to pool in the pit of her stomach; she swallowed past the sudden nausea. She trusted Nicole, and she knew that Wynonna – for all her flaws, her abrasiveness and quick temper – would _never_ do anything to intentionally hurt her baby sister.

Waverly just had to accept that they would work things through together.

And, this time, without her to mediate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, still a lot of dialogue in this one. Got to get all those feelings aired and whatnot, especially after the debacle of the day before.
> 
> The real question is: how will Nicole fare along with Wynonna when she returns to pick her up?
> 
> Stay tuned for the next episode of - you get the picture. :)


	24. The Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover CJ's fate after a whole twenty-four hours alone and Nicole has a brief conversation with Wynonna about where things stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short follow-up from the previous chapter this time. Nothing plot-heavy, just some additional thoughts about things from the characters - and some more semi-domestic Wayhaught. :)

Waverly was through the front door and striding into the kitchen before Nicole had even managed to close it behind her. The sounds of a running tap and the shaking of a biscuit box brought a smile to the redhead’s face in spite of the kernel of apprehension that had begun to grow in her stomach. She may have been able to fool Waverly with her confidence, but the truth was that she was _not_ looking forward to speaking with Wynonna Earp alone. The morning’s greeting had been brisk, bereft of her usual humour and good-natured ribbing – which was, of course, only to be expected given the circumstances.

And it wasn’t only the grilling over her police work that she was anticipating. However coolly she had brushed off the revelation that Nicole had spent the night in Waverly’s bed (innocently, of course, but the older Earp couldn’t know that for sure), Nicole knew that Wynonna would have something to say about it.

Quite _what_ remained to be seen.

‘So, do we have a famished cat on our hands?’ she asked, peering into the kitchen to watch Waverly replenish CJ’s food.

‘There were a few biscuits left,’ Waverly admitted reluctantly, ignoring the chuckle her words elicited from Nicole. ‘But this _definitely_ needs changing.’

Her nose wrinkled as she gestured to the white litter, half of which was strewn around the tray, the rest clumping together in sticky, stinky mounds. Nicole noted with some dismay that the plastic lining she had so carefully wrapped around the tray was shredded and scrunched up, utterly failing in its job to contain the mess within.

‘I need to have a quick shower and change, but I’ll do it when I’m finished,’ she said, already moving towards the stairs.

Glancing at the couch on her way, she grinned at the sight of the feline curled up in her spot, seemingly unfazed by the extended absence of her owner overnight and her sudden reappearance that morning. Vaguely-curious yellow eyes peered at her for the briefest of moments before she nestled her head back into her paws.

Nicole was true to her word: it _was_ a swift shower, the water barely warming up before she had turned it off and was towelling herself dry. She breathed a heavy sigh as she looked at herself in the mirror. Not for the first time in her life, she was grateful that she never allowed situations to overwhelm her, that she managed to remain calm and collected in even the most stressful of circumstances. The tragedy engulfing the Earp sisters following so hot on the heels of the new development in her relationship with Waverly – not to mention the fact that, for now, they were hiding it from prying eyes – had ramped up the tension in her previously humdrum life. And that wasn’t even taking into account the disaster with Hardy the week before and the sly looks she still felt being slung her way by some of the warier locals whenever she was out and about in her uniform.

When Nicole had wished her life in Purgatory could be a little livelier, this wasn’t exactly what she had envisaged…

Her hair now perfectly braided, teeth cleaned, and a crisp, new uniform hugging her figure, Nicole made her way back downstairs. Oddly, she could still hear running water and the soft murmur of Waverly’s dulcet tones. The sight that greeted her as she stepped into the living room made her stop in her tracks.

Waverly was still standing by the kitchen sink, water trickling out of the tap as CJ perched on the edge, head angled so that she could lap at the thin stream.

‘Silly,’ Waverly crooned, beaming down at the feline. ‘You have a perfectly good water bowl down there, don’t you know?’

The cat, as all cats are wont to do, tactfully ignored her and continued to alternate between licking at the water directly and pawing at it, then licking its paw instead.

Nicole wasn’t entirely sure how long she stood there, watching the adorable scene unfold with a soft smile on her face. Apparently, it was enough for Waverly to sense her presence, for she looked up and grinned even more broadly, a girlish giggle escaping her mouth as some of the water splashed onto her face. Seemingly deciding that she was now adequately hydrated, CJ leapt down from the counter and padded over to Nicole, rubbing her body against the fresh pair of khaki trousers and leaving behind wisps of ginger fur. The redhead knelt down to stroke along the length of the feline’s back, the contented purrs it provoked so loud it sounded as though a tiny engine had lodged in her throat.

Once CJ had revelled in this attention for as long as she cared to, she trotted away and jumped back onto the couch, promptly curling around and snuggling into her spot again. Nicole glanced up to find Waverly walking towards her; she was reaching for her hands before she had even consciously made the decision to do so. In turn, Waverly linked her arms around Nicole’s waist and gazed up at her.

‘I thought cats typically didn’t like water?’ Nicole mused.

‘A lot don’t,’ Waverly replied. ‘But then you get the oddballs like CJ who don’t like to follow others’ expectations.’

Nicole secretly thought that, perhaps, CJ was the _perfect_ animal for them _both_ to have adopted. Perhaps one day, they would…

‘We should get going,’ she whispered, bowing her head so that her face was inches from Waverly’s.

‘Mmm, in a minute,’ came the mumbled response as the brunette pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Nicole’s lips.

It was soft, slow, tender: the complete opposite of the desperate hungriness of the night before. Nicole relished the sensation, the warmth that ignited at their point of contact spreading down to bloom within her chest. Not wanting to let go, but also conscious of the waiting Wynonna back at the homestead, Nicole drew back far too quickly; she smiled at the almost sorrowful look in Waverly’s eyes as she did so.

‘Right,’ she said, stepping back out of Waverly’s arms so as not to give into the irresistible temptation to remain there for the next several minutes, ‘I’ll just clear out that litter and then we’ll go.’

‘Oh, I already did it,’ Waverly said. Nicole looked at her, and then over at the now pristine tray. ‘Whilst you were getting ready,’ she added unnecessarily.

The idea of Waverly Earp completing such unpleasant domestic chores in her house filled Nicole with an odd sense of elation. Trying to explain this fact, however, would have entailed all sorts of bumbling mishaps, so she simply nodded and patted her pockets to make sure she had picked up everything she needed before motioning towards the front door.

Once outside, they stopped besides their respective vehicles, Waverly turning to fix Nicole with a look that screamed concern and misgivings.

‘Look, Wynonna is…’ she began, before sighing. ‘She can be a bit… _prickly_ , sometimes, but she means well. Try not to take anything she says to heart.’

Nicole chuckled as she pulled open the driver’s door. ‘And what if she tells me I’m the most wonderful person she’s ever met?’

Waverly smiled at that. ‘Well, _obviously_ she’d be totally right. But I wouldn’t bank on that being the _first_ thing out of her mouth.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Nicole reassured her. ‘I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever she dishes out.’

Waverly nodded but said no more, and they both slid into their cars and prepared for their respective journeys, the kernel in Nicole’s gut sprouting into a nervous leafling as she pulled off her driveway.

***

Wynonna was already waiting on the porch by the time Nicole arrived back at the homestead, arms wrapped around her chest and still looking as though she might throw up at any moment. She didn’t even wait for Nicole to get out before she was yanking the passenger door open and slumping into the front seat without a word. Taking this as the cue to leave, the redhead swung the car back around and began the short – or, perhaps _incredibly long_ , depending on how the conversation went with the older Earp sister – journey to the diner.

Neither woman spoke for the first minute, both apparently waiting for the other to take the lead. Ever patient, Nicole allowed Wynonna the space and time she needed to say whatever it was she knew she wanted to get off her chest (evidenced by the occasional glances up at the redhead, the impatient huffs, and the near-imperceptible jiggle of her right leg).

Eventually, Wynnona breathed out a final sigh and stared resolutely out of the windscreen. ‘Okay, I’ll just say it: I’m sorry I lashed out at you yesterday. You didn’t deserve that.’ She paused, and Nicole listened. Waited. ‘I was pissed off and upset and took it out on you. So…yeah.’

Nicole allowed a full minute to pass before she replied. ‘You don’t have to apologise,’ she said, realising that she was, apparently, forever saying this to the Earps. ‘It’s only natural you got angry. And you were right: we _should_ have been able to do more. There’s no excuse.’

The other woman turned her piercing stare on her, blue eyes scanning her face. ‘Why do you have to be so fucking nice,’ she muttered. ‘Next thing you’ll be telling me that the sun shines out of your ass, too.’

Nicole chuckled. ‘Well, I don’t like to _brag_ , but…’

Wynonna huffed a laugh and resumed her scrutiny of the outside world.

Another minute of silence. Again, the tics reared their heads, playing out on the edge of Nicole’s peripheral vision. And, again, she waited.

Then: ‘So, this morning…’ A pause. Nicole swallowed. ‘What Waves said…’ A beat. Nicole drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘You stayed to comfort her? That’s it?’

Nicole sucked in a furtive breath. ‘Yes. She was devastated after what happened, naturally. Cried all day, on and off. I couldn’t leave her alone like that.’

‘So you stayed in her bed.’

It was a statement, not a question. One that carried the merest suggestion of accusation with it.

‘She asked me to. I wasn’t about to say no.’

They were skirting around the real issue, the one that hovered between them, unspoken yet very much present – the almost-proverbial unicorn in the car; Wynonna was avoiding voicing it directly and Nicole was in no mind to answer it, anyway. It was Waverly’s place to have _that_ conversation with her older sister.

Either the answer satisfied Wynonna, or she didn't know what else to say. They subsided into a (mostly uncomfortable) silence for the remainder of the journey. When Nicole finally parked up outside the diner, she was surprised to find that Wynonna didn’t move. Instead, she glanced through the window into the diner, where Waverly sat; she was staring down at something on the table in front of her, oblivious to their arrival.

‘You know, she was never _really_ happy growing up,’ Wynonna murmured, so quietly Nicole had to hold her breath to hear her. ‘We had a fucked up childhood and she got the roughest end of it more often than not. The sweetest one of the bunch ended up taking the shit that should have been flung at others.’ She sighed and closed her eyes; when she opened them again, it was to turn them on Nicole, all hints of her earlier frustration vanished. ‘I don’t know what it is, but these past few weeks, I think she’s finally learning to be happy. The corners of her eyes are crinkling again, you know. She’s realising that she deserves more than the scraps of affection and recognition she was offered as a kid. And that only happened once you two became close. So…I guess what I’m trying to say is: thank you.’

Nicole blinked. She nodded. Wynonna nodded in return.

And then she was pushing the door open and striding into the diner, almost before Nicole could really process what was happening. _That…went well. Huh._

Looking up, she noticed Waverly peering through the diner window, smiling at her as Wynonna settled opposite her. A reciprocal smile broke out on Nicole’s face, almost entirely of its own accord. It was as though her body reacted reflexively whenever it came to the younger Earp. Then, recognising how idiotic she must look, grinning like a fool and not moving, she exited the cruiser and joined the sisters in the diner. Instantly, the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee and frying bacon assaulted her senses, gripping her stomach with a sudden ravenous hunger and reminding her, painfully, that she had eaten very little since the morning before.

As she approached the table, Nicole noted the redness of the brunette’s eyes, something she had not been able to spot from the car. The realisation that Waverly had clearly been crying alone before their arrival made her heart ache.

Nicole stopped next to them and Waverly shot her sister a pointed look. ‘I told her that it was your seat, but _someone_ refused to listen.’

‘I don’t see Shit Haught’s name on it,’ Wynonna retorted without looking up from her menu.

Nicole swallowed the chuckle that quivered in the back of her throat and slid into the seat next to Waverly, privately grateful that Wynonna’s stubbornness afforded her the opportunity to sit so close to her sister instead. Almost immediately, she felt a small hand on her thigh, a thumb brushing the fabric of her khakis; Nicole covered the hand with her own and squeezed it gently. Waverly didn’t meet her darted glance, but one corner of her lips hitched ever so slightly. Still browsing the food choices, Wynonna missed it entirely.

‘I don’t even know why I’m looking at this,’ she muttered, flinging the menu onto the table. ‘Not like I’m getting anything different. Just give me _all_ the pancakes.’

‘I’m surprised you can even stomach the thought of food after last night,’ Waverly grimaced, nose wrinkling. ‘Pun intended.’

‘Baby girl, it’s the _only_ thing that will get me through. That and more whiskey.’

Waverly rolled her eyes, but there was an amused twinkle in them nevertheless. A pause followed, before: ‘So…how was the journey back here?’

It sounded innocent enough, but they all knew the intent the words hid, the _real_ question she was voicing, even without the sharp fingernails that suddenly dug into Nicole’s leg. Nicole met Wynonna’s gaze for a second, held it as they both decided who should answer.

‘Fine,’ Wynonna offered eventually. ‘I even managed not to puke, so your driving can’t be too bad.’

The smirk she shot at the redhead alleviated any lingering tension, and Nicole heard a soft breath escape Waverly’s lips beside her, her rigid grip on Nicole’s leg relaxing under the humour.

And thus went the rest of the breakfast, with Wynonna cracking jokes far more often than usual, Nicole occasionally retorting with a deadpan quip of her own, and Waverly simply content to enjoy the casual conversation. They each knew, of course, that there was nothing _casual_ about it at all – that they were _all_ working to keep the mood light, to avoid the myriad of sore spots each one attempted to conceal, expertly deflecting any shots that were aimed too near.

It would take a monumental effort, but Nicole felt sure that, come what may, they would survive the coming ordeals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten poor Gus in all this, never fear! We will be seeing more of her in the next chapter.


	25. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly visits Gus the day after the tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to thank each and every person who has been reading this little idea I've been churning out into a somewhat coherent story thus far. Knowing that there are people out there enjoying it really does make me happy and it fuels my desire to continue writing after so long away from it.
> 
> So, here's to you all. :)
> 
> Hopefully, you'll find this latest (though, again, rather short) offering to your liking, too.

Waverly didn’t get out of the jeep straight away upon arriving at the McCready ranch; instead, she sat in the vehicle, trying to muster up the strength not to cry as soon as she saw Gus. Her aunt had put on a brave face the day before when she had shooed Waverly and Nicole away, but her niece knew better. She was hurting and trying to hide it the best way she knew how: by distancing herself from her loved ones and pretending the loss didn’t cut her to the bone.

As Waverly gazed out of the windscreen, her eyes kept being drawn towards the barn and beyond – to the cattle field, where…

But no, she was determined not to think about that. Not to imagine how it all happened, what he was thinking in his last moments, lying alone in that field…

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Waverly whispered, allowing herself to revel in the sound and the relief of the rare, private expletive as she hunched into the seat. ‘Get a grip.’

She would _not_ allow Gus to see her like this. For once in her goddamned life, Waverly Earp was going to be the rock that her aunt needed, the shoulder on which to cry. Even if it tore her apart inside.

With a last, fortifying breath, she slipped out of the jeep and marched up to the porch, eyes fixed on the door ahead. The rapping of her knuckles on the wood sounded altogether far too loud in the silence of the crisp morning, and the waiting for the door to open was agonising; Waverly could feel the temptation to glance away to her right, to the –

The door opened much more slowly than she had expected, Gus’ haggard face peering out at her, the secondary screen doing nothing to disguise her red-rimmed eyes.

‘Gus,’ Waverly whispered, voice dangerously close to cracking already.

Her aunt pushed the screen open and enveloped her in a tight embrace, the arms wrapped around her shoulders trembling in an unfamiliar, heart-breaking fashion. Waverly squeezed her in return, as though she might be able to absorb even a fraction of the hurt and the sorrow and the pain, to assuage it in some small way.

But that was not how grief worked, so they stood there, fighting the tears that spilled regardless of their efforts. Neither one spoke for a long time. Neither one needed to.

It was Gus who finally broke the hold, stepping backwards and sniffing to regain her composure. ‘I tol’ you, you don’t need to worry ‘bout me,’ she rebuked with a shake of her head.

‘I know,’ Waverly returned, offering a gentle smile as she stole past Gus into the darkened house.

She swept her eyes around the living room, looking for clues as to how she might help her aunt; they landed upon the small mound of used tissues littering the couch, scattered across a creased blanket and…

_Curtis’ favourite shirt._

The lump that settled in her throat made it suddenly very difficult to swallow, let alone utter anything close to resembling coherent words. When Gus murmured something about tea, Waverly simply nodded. The heartache that veiled the living room was too much; she felt as though to walk into the room, to sit on the sofa surrounded by the proof of her aunt’s private anguish, would be to somehow disturb a sacred ritual. One that Gus was clearly trying to conceal.

Thus, she turned to join the other woman in the kitchen, standing silently to the side as she watched deft fingers brewing the same tea she had been drinking for the past sixteen years. The one Gus always made when Waverly was upset or angry or confused – or a combination of all three. The tradition had sprung up soon after the sisters had moved in with their relatives, after _that_ awful night that had uprooted their entire lives. Later, the soothing beverage had been used to alleviate the distress of Wynonna’s frequent absences, then the many lows that dating Champ Hardy for six years had entailed.

And now…

Waverly accepted the mug with a wan smile, which was returned with equal listlessness. She followed the older woman into the dining room, noting the decision _not_ to sit in the lounge and feeling somewhat glad of it.

‘How…how are you holding up?’ Waverly asked after she could bear the silence no more.

It was an utterly redundant question, of course; they both knew that. And yet she had to say _something_.

‘I’m okay, darlin’,’ Gus replied.

A mechanical response, said almost without thinking. A reflex. A deflection.

Waverly nodded, acknowledging the reasons for it. Gus had always been the strong one in the family. Now, more than ever, she wanted to uphold that reputation.

No – she _needed_ to.

‘If you need help with _anything_ ,’ Waverly said, reaching out to hold her aunt’s hand, ‘I’m right here. I’m a good planner.’

Gus smiled at that. ‘You always have been.’ She paused, her dark eyes searching her niece’s for a long moment. ‘I’m proud of you.’

Waverly was taken aback, by both the admission itself and its abruptness. ‘Oh, I…’ She swallowed some of the scalding tea. ‘It’s nothing, really.’

Gus shook her head and squeezed her hand. ‘I don’ mean that offer – kind as it is. I mean I’m proud of _you_ – all of you. Everythin’ you’ve accomplished. Everythin’ you _are_.’ She smiled again, and this time it was genuine, full of that same warmth and support that had so bolstered Waverly the last time she had seen it. ‘Everythin’ you’ve chosen to do with ya life.’

Waverly held her gaze, reading in it the true meaning behind her words. Gus always _had_ been perceptive, after all.

‘She seems like a good’un,’ her aunt continued. ‘And you deserve someone good in ya life.’

Waverly blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. ‘She is,’ she whispered. ‘She’s…she really is. I’m so lucky, Gus.’

‘And so’s she.’

And whilst a tiny part of Waverly would always doubt that – for, really, who could ever be _lucky_ with an Earp – she nodded nevertheless. Gus settled back into her chair and they both sipped their way through the rest of their drinks.

The morning sun, as though in bold defiance of their melancholy, rose higher in the sky and filtered through the net curtains adorning the old windows. Waverly could just about discern the symphony of birdsong and the lowing of cattle outside and she thought that, in spite of it all, life still continued. The planet still turned. It was only in their private corner of the world that the tragedy of the previous day even registered. For everyone else, it was just another day on this rock they called Earth.

The realisation was both comforting and dreadful all at once.

Waverly was just draining the dregs of her tea when there was a loud thumping on the front door; its violence shook the wooden frame, startling both women. Brows knit into a deep frown, Gus got up and Waverly followed, hovering just behind. Just in case, she reasoned.

Yet she needn’t have feared. For in the doorway stood a pale-faced Wynonna. Aunt and niece stared at one another, neither one speaking. Neither one moving.

Then, as though the last vestige of her self-control had crumbled beneath her, Wynonna fell into Gus’ arms, head buried into her shoulder. Waverly watched as her sister – who hadn’t cried at ten years of age when their mama had left, nor at twelve after their father’s death, nor at sixteen when she had been carted off to juvie for the second time – was consumed by her grief, gave into it unreservedly. Willingly. She watched and didn’t move, not wanting to intrude, knowing that Wynonna needed this as much as any of them.

She watched until Gus let her hand slide from one niece’s back and held it out to the other, beckoning Waverly towards them. And she yielded, allowing herself to be drawn into the embrace, head on her sister’s shoulder, arm around her back.

It is said that a problem shared is a problem halved.

But what of grief? Heartache? The unrelenting anguish of knowing that death is permanent and what if there really _isn’t_ anything waiting for us when our time on this tiny, inconsequential planet comes to its slow, shuffling end?

Or, worse, a brutal, untimely, utterly unjustifiable end…

If lost loved ones really are just that.

When they finally pulled apart, it was with swollen eyes and dry faces, for they had no more tears to shed. Gus moved to the kitchen and Waverly shut the door before guiding Wynonna into the dining room. They waited in silence for their aunt to return, bearing another mug, this time with coffee and a dash of something infinitely stronger. Wynonna took a large gulp; the determined look she shot the mug afterwards suggested she was steeling herself for something.

‘So, have you thought about…’ A pause and a swallow. Waverly thought there had been a lot of that lately. ‘About what happens now?’

Gus’ eyes sought them both as she nodded. ‘When they give him back’ – Waverly flinched but hid it well…she hoped – ‘he’ll be buried here. With his tomatoes.’

It was an odd choice of words. Not ‘with me’. Not ‘with us’. But tomatoes.

‘If there’s one thin’ Curtis loved more'n me,’ Gus continued, the ghost of a smile touching her lips, ‘it was his dam’ tomatoes.’

Waverly couldn’t help it. The thin braid of tension and reason that had been slowly stretching over the past twenty-four hours, that had been growing tauter with each fresh wave of misery, suddenly snapped and she laughed. An honest-to-god giggle rippled past her lips before she managed to clamp a hand to her mouth to stifle it. Still, it bubbled in her throat; she shook with the effort it took to suppress it.

Wynonna and Gus simply stared at her.

‘I-I’m sorry,’ Waverly breathed, swallowing a fresh chuckle. ‘I…I don’t know why I’m laughing.’

The blank expressions that existed within the silence that followed made her throat run dry. She had overstepped the mark – had run so far past the line that it was merely a speck mingling with the distant horizon.

It was with an overwhelming sense of relief that she watched the faltering smile on Gus’ face curl into an open-mouthed grin. ‘He was a ridiculous man,’ she said, and her eyes swam as though with the memories of years past. ‘And he loved them tomatoes far too much for his own good.’

‘Do you remember,’ Wynonna began, ‘when we walked in and caught him talking to them that one time?’ She snorted a laugh. ‘Calling them all by their _names_? Which one was his favourite…? Dot? Dorothy?’

‘Doris,’ Gus murmured.

‘That was it!’ Wynonna was cackling now. ‘Fucking _Doris_.’

‘Language.’

But the reproach was flat, devoid of any real intent, and Wynonna shook her head, still smiling.

‘He sang to them, too,’ Waverly added, the recollection surfacing suddenly in her mind. ‘I used to stand outside and listen. I think he always knew I was there, but he never said anything. He just…kept singing.’

‘Said it encouraged ‘em to grow bigger an’ juicier,’ Gus chuckled.

‘They _were_ delicious,’ Waverly said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe he had a point all this time.’

The rest of the morning passed in a leisurely parade of hot drinks, shared memories, and guilt-free laughter. Eventually, they migrated to the living room, away from the hard-backed chairs, and eased into the sofa. Nobody acknowledged Gus’ quick tidying of the tissues, nor the way she tucked Curtis’ shirt behind her, _almost_ out of sight. None of them brought up the fact that they had left Curtis’ armchair empty, even though there wasn’t _really_ enough room on the couch for them all to settle comfortably.

And though the grief was still raw, still too near the surface to heal, the laughter and the drinks and the cheerful reminiscences applied a salve over the wounds, soothing the pain. Just for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to the end of the exploration of the characters' reactions to Curtis' death. Things will start to pick up again in the next few chapters, but I felt I needed to do justice to the tragedy and not just sweep it under the rug in the interest of more drama.
> 
> However, more drama is to come, so...stay tuned. :)
> 
> EDIT: In case anyone is vaguely interested, I've been adding songs to a playlist that have been included in or remind me of this story/Wayhaught in general. I'll apologise for some of the unashamed 90s/2000s pop in advance haha. 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5HwPK4HyOjPOHTnGiEuGn2?si=5D3uSnwJR-6dSEYEm_PMqQ


	26. The Frank Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole is treated to an unexpectedly long conversation with Nedley, and Waverly returns to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something different this time, and a fair bit longer than previous chapters. A warning for a fair bit of exposition ahead, but I couldn't think of a better way to divulge the information, so, alas, you'll have to endure it in all its convoluted glory.

Nicole had spent the better part of the past five days burying herself in any and all files relating to the Revenants. Whenever she wasn’t working a case for Nedley (and, as usual, they were few and far between), the deputy pored over decades’ worth of photos, statements, and various other documents, looking for any scrap of evidence that might link the notorious gang with Curtis’ murder. But it was like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack: a fruitless exercise that led nowhere.

All of this additional work was, of course, completed without Nedley’s knowledge. Nicole knew that he would reprimand her for pursuing the case without his approval, but she found that, for once, she didn’t care: she had to do _something_ , make _some_ effort to catch those responsible. For Waverly – and for Wynonna and Gus. They had suffered enough already; the least she could do was to give them some sort of closure.

That was _if_ she could find one scrap of a lead to follow.

Slamming shut the folder on the latest hopeless effort, Nicole breathed an exasperated sigh. Once again she would speak to Waverly and have absolutely _nothing_ good to tell her, nothing to show for her endeavours that week – endeavours that, to both of their chagrin, had kept them apart on more than one evening, so late into the night had she been working.

_And for what?_ the niggling voice in her head griped. _A few names and no clues._ She peered down at the latest photo she had kept aside for further scrutiny: the Revenants’ new leader, the latest scumbag to spearhead the infamous gang. One Robert Svane, otherwise known by his ridiculous moniker ‘Bobo’. Nicole let out a derisive snort at the nickname and tucked the picture back into the file, knowing it would yield nothing of interest.

It was as she was packing up the records once more that Nedley shuffled into the station, apparently having forgotten something in his haste to leave earlier in the evening; his gaze fell upon the box immediately. Nicole attempted to look as _not-guilty_ as she could, but there was no fooling the sharp eyes of the Sheriff.

‘Officer Haught, I hope that’s not what I think it is,’ he said evenly. ‘Because I distinc’ly remember tellin’ you not to waste your time on it.’

Nicole tried – she truly did – not to allow her irritation at his apparent indifference to affect her. But the thought of Waverly waiting for her, of Wynonna’s fury and Gus’ quiet grief – of each of them craving some hope to cling to – soon crushed the little composure she had left.

‘You did, sir,’ she replied, gripping the box with her hands as though to inject _it_ with her frustration rather than her words, ‘but I’m sorry: I can’t – I _won’t_ – sit by and do nothing. They deserve more than our disinterest and idleness.’

She watched Nedley inhale a deep breath, his moustache twitching as he held her gaze. A vague thought about hoping she wasn’t about to be fired on the spot pricked her mind. _It was good whilst it had lasted…_

‘Sit down, deputy,’ the Sheriff murmured. His note carried an unusual air of quiet, unmistakable authority that made her obey at once, Nedley mirroring her action and taking the chair opposite. ‘Now, I’ve been Sheriff of Purgatory a lon’ time. I’ve seen things you couldn’t possibly imagine.’ He paused, as though to allow the weight of his words to sink in. ‘Over the years, we’ve had more trouble with the Revenants than I care to remember. But the wors’ one was nearly eleven years ago.’ Nedley closed his eyes – briefly, seeming to fight against the recollection. ‘We were called out to a dispute that had gon’ bad. The Revenants and the Banditos – another shithead gang from roun’ the way – were goin’ all out on each other. Tens of idiots already wounded, others shot dead. It was a massacre.’

This time, he stopped long enough for Nicole to wonder whether that was the end of his story. She frowned, contemplating what, precisely, was the point of it all when Nedley breathed another sigh and steeled himself to continue.

‘I had jus’ hired a new deputy. Fresh outta the academy, newly married, kid on the way. Head full of dreams of being a dam’ hero and savin’ the town from the bad guys.’

Nicole swallowed. Suddenly, it was all too clear where this was going…

‘He did the exact same thin’ you’re doin’ – tried for weeks to build a case agains’ the Revenants, went snoopin’ about their trailer park after his shifts, tryin’ to get dirt on their leader – a dirtbag named Joshua Svane. Robert Svane’s older brother, y’see. And they found out.’

His moustache quivered again, but this time Nicole was certain it wasn’t because of any lingering annoyance he may have felt over her earlier harsh words.

‘So when we rolled in to support other local PDs in the shootout, he was the firs’ to be targeted. Took a bullet to the skull, right through his temple. Watched him collapse in front o’ me. Died instan’ly.’ Again, a pause. Again, a deep breath. ‘And the wors’ part wasn’t seeing his life cut short like that, but tellin’ his pregnant wife that he wouldn’t be comin’ home no more.’

If Nicole hadn’t been so attuned to the nuanced details others overlooked, she may have missed the slight crack in the Sheriff’s voice. But hear it she did, and she felt her heart constrict in her chest at the sound. She had never seen the gruff, no-nonsense Purgatorian look as vulnerable as he did in that very moment.

‘So,’ Nedley continued, clearing his throat with an exaggerated cough, ‘when I tell you not to hurtle into this wild goose chase, it ain’t because of _disinterest_ and _idleness_.’ Nicole winced as her own words were thrown back at her, seeming wholly unjust in light of his frank explanation. ‘You’re a dam’ good officer, Haught, and I will _not_ let you put yourself in danger for a fool’s errand.’ Some tiny, rebellious part of Nicole still wanted to protest – for what good were officers of the law if they allowed the criminals to walk all over them? ‘One day, we _will_ get the bastards. But it’s about the long game, and I been playin’ it for years. One day, they’ll slip up, and you’ll be there to mop ‘em up. Every last dam' one of ‘em.’

The sad, encouraging smile he offered then was so unexpected that all Nicole could do was nod her understanding. Her mind swam with everything he had divulged; he had spoken to her more in those ten minutes than he had the entire month she had now been his deputy. A man of few words, Sheriff Randy Nedley didn’t usually indulge in such lengthy, personal conversations, which made this one all the more significant.

‘Anyway,’ Nedley said, voice louder, firmer, far more confident now, ‘put that dam’ box back where it belongs and get yourself ready. We’re going to _Shorty’s_ for a much needed drink. Uniform be damned.’

Nicole returned the smile this time and nodded once more. Truth be told, a cold beer and Waverly Earp’s beaming, adoring face behind the bar were everything she needed right then. Yet it was still with a twinge of regret that she packed away the records for the last time, vowing that – someday, somehow – she would follow up on the Sheriff’s promise.

For now, she would play the Sheriff’s long game and bide her time.

But she _would_ be there when the opportunity arose to bring every single one of them to justice.

***

Waverly had made the decision to return to work only four days after _that_ morning, in spite of Shorty’s protests and reassurances that she could take as long as she needed. The truth was, she craved a distraction, something to take her mind off everything else going on in her life. Whenever she was alone, insidious images of what had happened plagued her waking moments as well as her dreams. Spending time with Wynonna helped to alleviate the nightmare somewhat, but it was only with Nicole that she truly allowed herself to forget and find peace, even for a few hours. Being unable to see her outside of their breakfast routine had been harder than Waverly could have imagined – thus, the decision to return to the simple, familiar surroundings of the bar with all of its quirks and occasional pool table brawls.

Cleaning a glass with her usual rag, Waverly watched as Wynonna completed her standard hustle act at said pool table; Pete York scowled as he handed over his forfeited cash and stalked away, leaving the next poor sucker to try their hand. She shook her head and smiled; her sister was renowned for being Purgatory’s best player, and yet these boys _would_ always come back for more, determined to prove their worth in some macho display of false confidence. Still, it allowed Wynonna to continue to pay for the countless shots of whiskey she had lined up, so there really was no downside.

It was as Waverly heard a fresh break of the pool balls that the doors to the bar creaked open and in walked the one person she had been longing to see since they had parted early that morning. Nicole immediately sought out Waverly’s eyes and grinned; both officers made their way to their usual stools whilst Waverly busied herself setting up the coffee machine.

‘Officers,’ she said playfully, gaze lingering on Nicole’s very obvious dimples. ‘Two coffees, coming right up.’

‘Not today, Waverly,’ Nedley replied. ‘We need something stronger tonight.’

Waverly caught the quick glance he shared with his deputy; her brow furrowed for the briefest of moments before she schooled her expression into its customary cheeriness and nodded.

‘Of course. Two beers it is, then,’ she smiled.

Fetching two fresh bottles from the mini fridge, Waverly quickly popped the caps and slid them across the bar. She tried to catch Nicole’s eye, to ask a silent question as to why Nedley would abandon his years-old tradition of not drinking in uniform, but Nicole remained impassive as she took her first sip. A request for further drinks from the other side of the bar drew Waverly’s attention then, and she was unable to follow up. With a sigh, she lined up more whiskey for the York boys, eyes darting over to the two officers throughout the exchange. When Kyle York finally walked away with his purchases, Nicole was immersed in a deep, low conversation with Nedley, one that Waverly knew she should not interrupt.

Returning her gaze to the pool table antics, she allowed herself to sink into the calming murmur of the myriad discussions around her; if she focused hard enough, she could hear Wynonna’s sporadic cackles as she pocketed another ball, could catch the snippets of another folk song, its jovial lyrics mingling with the hum of chatter. The recognisable, pungent aroma of the bar itself, ingrained with years of sticky spillages, drifted up from beneath her as she leant against the counter. It was all so familiar, comforting, almost. Waverly lost herself in its simple embrace.

‘Having fun?’ a voice pulled her from her reflections and she sighed.

Opening her eyes, Waverly found her sister smirking back at her, note in hand.

‘Let me guess: another whiskey, no ice,’ Waverly replied, eyebrow raised in reproach.

‘You know me so well, baby girl.’

‘ _Too_ well,’ Waverly muttered as she grabbed the nearby bottle and topped up Wynonna’s glass. ‘One day you might actually manage to surprise me.’

‘I wouldn’t bank on that happening any time soon,’ the older Earp grinned as she swallowed a gulp of her drink. Her eyes drifted over towards the two officers, still engaged in an apparently serious conversation. ‘Well, I’ll be monkey’s asshole. Randy Nedley drinking in uniform. Never thought I’d see the day.’ She took another sip. ‘And Officer Haughttie, too.’

Her eyebrows waggled as she looked back at her sister; Waverly had a sudden, awful thought that maybe Wynonna really _had_ managed to surmise what was going on between the two of them in spite of her usual cheerful ignorance of the ins and outs of her baby sister’s life. If that was true, then why hadn’t she said anything? It wasn’t like Wynonna to hold back on voicing every one of her own thoughts, be they supportive or cutting; she was nothing if not brutally outspoken and honest, even when the situation warranted otherwise. Even more so when she was on her fifth whiskey, the alcohol dissolving what little filter she had.

‘I’m glad you found her,’ Wynonna continued, her voice edged with a seriousness that took Waverly by surprise. ‘She may be a narc and a bit too prim sometimes, but she’s a good one to have around.’ Another gulp that drained the glass. ‘A good friend.’

She held the brunette’s gaze as she lowered her empty glass, and Waverly felt certain there was a question hidden in her eyes, a challenge to reveal the truth behind her veiled suspicions. Waverly was reminded of that long ago morning in the diner, her sister’s words echoing somewhere in the back of her mind: _And I want you to know that you can talk to me. Any time. About anything._ Again, her walls almost crumbled beneath the piercing stare, the desire to confide everything in her sister bubbling so close to the surface that she could feel it burning the tip of her tongue.

But now was not the time. Not the place. Not after the disaster that had unfolded here at the mere suggestion that Nicole was interested in Waverly in that way.

So Waverly simply smiled. ‘She’s a great friend,’ she said.

Wynonna held her eyes for a moment longer before nodding slowly. The slapping of her hands on the bar as she stood up from the stool made Waverly flinch.

‘Right, back to it,’ Wynonna grinned. ‘Can’t let these boys think I’ve gone soft on them.’

And with that, she sauntered off back to the pool table, much to the annoyance of the young men gathered there, each one rolling their eyes and attempting to argue with her to no avail. Waverly turned away to find Nedley walking away from the bar, presumably towards the bathroom, and Nicole watching her intently. Moving closer to the redhead, Waverly leaned across the counter towards her, hands resting inches from Nicole’s.

‘Hey,’ Nicole murmured, smiling at her.

‘Hey yourself,’ Waverly beamed. ‘I missed you.’

Nicole tilted her head slightly as one finger inched across the bar and brushed against Waverly’s hand, agonisingly slowly. ‘You only saw me this morning.’

Waverly reacted to the touch, her own thumb grazing Nicole’s. ‘Half an hour each day isn’t enough.’ She sighed. ‘I wish I could see you every evening.’

The sympathetic look Nicole gave her then revealed her own disappointment at the situation and she nodded. ‘I know. Me too. But work has been…unusually busy.’

‘Speaking of,’ Waverly said, glancing around to make sure Nedley wasn’t nearby, ‘how comes you’re drinking with Nedley? He never lets his officers consume alcohol in uniform.’

‘It’s just been a tough day,’ she replied, the hesitation clear in her voice. ‘I’ll tell you about it later. But right now, I just want to lose myself in your gorgeous smile and forget about it for five minutes.’

The wide grin she flashed, revealing her perfectly white teeth and deep dimples, made Waverly’s breath catch in her throat. She could feel her heart thrumming just that bit faster as the redhead continued to caress her hand, so subtly that nobody else would catch the movement. And, damn it, if Waverly didn’t also notice the way Nicole’s eyes dilated slightly, the black of her irises bleeding into caramel brown as she held her gaze – without blinking once.

The final straw for Waverly was the – was it _intentional_? – biting of her bottom lip, Nicole pulling it between her teeth as a coy smirk teased the corners of her mouth. She dragged her eyes away from such a tempting sight, her gaze instead dropping down to the exposed collarbone, because _of course_ the top two buttons of Nicole’s uniform would be undone, just to torment her further.

Waverly would be lying if she pretended that hadn’t wondered about what it would be like to finally _be_ with another woman – to be with Nicole, completely. She knew she wasn’t ready just yet – perhaps wouldn’t be for a while – but that hadn’t stopped her from fantasising nevertheless. The thought crossed her mind once more as her eyes darted back up to the redhead’s face; her pulse throbbed in her ears as she felt the warmth settle somewhere below her abdomen and she swallowed. The knowing, almost cocky smile Nicole gave her only made the pressure more insistent and Waverly closed her eyes to shut out the alluring sight. She would _not_ announce their relationship by snapping and pulling the town’s deputy into a fierce kiss in the middle of the busy bar. It just wouldn’t do.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Nicole murmured, and even with her eyes closed, Waverly could _hear_ the smirk.

‘How much I hate you right now,’ Waverly groaned, eliciting a breathy chuckle from her tormentor.

‘Well, that won’t do. I’ll have to make it up to you some time.’

Waverly couldn’t lie: this rarely-seen side of Nicole Haught – smug, outrageously flirtatious – was ridiculously attractive. She found herself wishing to see more of it…at a more appropriate time, of course.

‘Anyway,’ Nicole continued, voice louder and livelier once more. She withdrew her hand as she spoke, and it was this loss of contact that made Waverly’s eyes flutter open. ‘I finish early tomorrow evening, so maybe I could see you after work?’

Waverly nodded and sucked in a steadying breath. ‘Sure. I’m not working tomorrow. We…we’ve got to finalise the plans for Curtis’ funeral on Saturday.’

This time, Nicole reached out to grasp both of Waverly’s hands in hers, all traces of her earlier teasing gone. ‘Whatever you need, I’m here,’ she said earnestly. ‘ _Whenever_ you need me.’

Waverly opened her mouth to respond, but was cut short by the sight of Champ Hardy marching through the double doors. His eyes narrowed as they fell on the back of Nicole’s head. Apparently sensing something was wrong, Nicole turned in her seat before quickly returning her gaze to Waverly, rolling her eyes.

‘Can’t we have just one evening in here without this jackass,’ she muttered as she drew back, letting go of the brunette’s hands.

‘He _does_ live above the bar,’ Waverly sighed. ‘So I don’t think that’ll ever happen.’

Much to her disappointment, Champ appeared to take the glare Waverly shot him as an invitation and he approached the counter, leaning inches away from Nicole. Rather than move, the redhead sat up straight, settling herself firmly on her stool as she took a swig from her bottle.

‘One beer, Waves,’ Champ grumbled, glowering at the side of Nicole’s face.

Still she watched Waverly, expression impassive once more. With a quick glance at Nicole, the brunette turned her back to fetch the order; her haste made her fumble with the bottle opener, and she stooped to pick it up.

‘So, what, are you two doin’ it now?’ she heard Champ spit out. ‘’Cause if you are, this town’ll run you out of here faster’n you can blink. We don’t like freaks round here.’

It took all of Waverly’s self-control not to fling the full bottle into Champ’s face as she spun around, fist clenched. She slammed his order onto the bar and snatched the money out of his hand, teeth gritted in an effort not to let loose the tirade she wanted to spew at him. Oblivious as always, Champ made to say more, but –

‘I hope you’re not disturbing my deputy, Champ Hardy,’ Nedley’s gruff warning came from the other side of the bar as he returned to his stool. ‘You got something to say about one of my officers, you come say it to me instead.’

But Champ Hardy, in all his infinite idiocy, ignored the instruction completely. ‘You gotta know what’s goin’ on here,’ he protested, waving his hand between the two women. ‘With this one and Waverly.’

Waverly’s eyes flitted to Nicole’s then, her own horror reflected back at her. She snapped her gaze around to the pool table, relieved to see Wynonna still crushing her challengers, far enough away to be blissfully unaware of the scene unfolding at the bar.

‘Well,’ Nedley said slowly, looking between them as though for some sign of confirmation about Champ’s accusation, ‘I reckon that’s their own private business.’

‘But – ’

‘And something _nobody_ has a right to comment on.’ Unassuming eyes fixed on Champ’s face, but there was a threatening lilt to the Sheriff’s voice that brooked no opposition. ‘So you best be on your way, Mr. Hardy, before I recommend to Shorty that he oughta find a new tenant.’

Champ floundered, spluttering nonsensical grunts, before pursing his lips and storming away. Waverly felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude towards Nedley then, and wanted nothing more than to fling her arms around him; only the knowledge that it would embarrass him stopped her.

‘He gives you any more trouble, you let me know,’ he added to both of them. ‘Now you see why I fought to recruit you.’ He looked at Nicole, his moustache twitching as the corner of his mouth tugged into a half-smile. ‘Imagine havin’ to deputise a fool like Champ Hardy.’

And a with a shake of his head, he gulped down the rest of his beer, grabbed his Stetson, and bid them both a goodnight. Waverly breathed a disbelieving chuckle as Nicole smiled back at her.

‘I guess that’s three people that know, now,’ the redhead murmured. ‘Won’t be long till the rumours spread.’

‘I think Champ’ll be too terrified to say anything now,’ Waverly replied. ‘Unless he’s drunk…’

‘So the whole town’ll find out by the end of the week, then,’ Nicole joked, though Waverly could hear the concern that lay behind the retort.

‘I don’t care. Let them find out. Let them talk.’ Waverly surprised even herself with her confidence then, but she knew that she meant every word. Nicole, though, frowned and glanced over Waverly’s shoulder towards Wynonna, her question clear. ‘I’m going to tell her after Curtis’ funeral,’ Waverly explained. ‘I just – I want to get through that first.’

Nicole nodded and reached out once more to squeeze Waverly’s hands. However, the moment was cut short by the slurred entreaty for more drinks from the other side of the bar. With a reassuring smile, Nicole wished her a goodnight, too, and stepped off her stool to follow in Nedley’s earlier wake. Waverly watched her disappear through the double doors with a wistful sigh, yearning for the next evening when she could finally spend some time alone with the woman she knew she was very much in danger of falling for.

Little did she acknowledge that the process had already begun, and she was utterly powerless in the face of its inevitable progression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I will find some way for these characters to become spontaneously mute so that I can cut down on the dialogue for one damn chapter haha. How comes it never looks like so much when writing in Word? Hmmmm...
> 
> And why is it every chapter seems to include much-needed discussions between everyone?? Perhaps I should just become a screenwriter instead...


	27. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally bury Curtis and the wake does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for some angst and violence in this chapter...that's all I'll say...

By the time Waverly left the McCready ranch the next evening, she was thoroughly exhausted. Emotionally drained from countless hours of triple-checking the plans for the funeral the following day, all she wanted was to curl up alongside Nicole and sleep. However, as she drew nearer to her destination, the image of their very flirtatious interaction in the bar rose vividly in her mind, and all thoughts of such passive activities were quashed. It had been a full week, almost, since she had even been able to kiss Nicole, and the sudden desperation to do so again, the craving for that intimacy and contact, made her foot press down harder on the gas pedal.

Nicole had barely opened her front door, still clad in her tight-fitting deputy’s uniform, before Waverly threw her arms around her neck and pulled her into an impatient, passionate kiss – one born of being starved of much-needed closeness for far too long. She just about registered the sound of the door closing behind her, but she certainly _felt_ the thud that shuddered up her spine as Nicole pressed her back against it. Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one pining for the past week…

Emboldened by that thought, Waverly allowed her hands to drift – across the redhead’s shoulders, down her sides, eager fingers finding the bottom of Nicole’s shirt, still tucked into her black pants. She gripped the fabric and tugged it out, her cool fingertips grazing the warm skin of the redhead’s toned abdominal muscles beneath. Waverly felt the shiver that rippled through Nicole, her stomach tensing underneath the brunette’s touch. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, she splayed her fingers across the taut muscles, her hands exploring flesh she had not yet seen nor felt.

Despite knowing that she wasn’t _truly_ ready to take the next step, Waverly couldn’t help the impulse that shot through her, landing low and hot beneath her abdomen: the desire to divest Nicole of that same shirt and finally glimpse the smooth skin beneath.

It was rather fortunate, then, that Nicole chose that moment to draw back, resting her forehead against Waverly’s, her breathing laboured.

‘Evening to you, too,’ she chuckled, one hand settled on Waverly’s right hip, as though to anchor her.

‘I don’t think I can wait a whole week again,’ Waverly murmured. ‘It’s too long.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. If that’s how you’d greet me each time, I think I could just about bear it.’

Waverly grinned and pressed a lighter, chaster kiss to Nicole’s lips, ignoring the insistent throbbing low down that urged her to turn it into more. As though sensing her conflict, Nicole pulled further away, putting some necessary distance between them.

‘Have you eaten?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got some leftover Chinese food in the fridge that I was going to heat up.’

‘That sounds _so_ good,’ Waverly replied, already savouring the thought of vegetable noodles and sweet and sour soup. ‘But – ’

‘I ordered vegan substitutes,’ Nicole interrupted. ‘It’s cooked in different oil. Bought it from a restaurant out of town to make sure.’ When Waverly only stared back at her, she shrugged and added: ‘I knew you’d be coming round.’

For some ridiculous, unfathomable reason, Waverly felt tears prick the back of her eyes. That Nicole had only thought of _her_ when ordering her own food the night before, that she cared enough to make that small sacrifice…

Waverly realised, as the redhead busied herself with emptying the cartons and putting the plates into the microwave, that it was in those small ways that Nicole revealed just how much she cared. They were subtle yet tireless, and _never_ stopped surprising Waverly. She was struck anew with just how fortunate she had been that Officer Haught had been the one to walk into the bar that day to chastise her for unloading her shotgun into the wall.

Strange, really, how things turned out in the end…

‘I would say don’t get your hopes up,’ Nicole said, returning with two plates laden with food, ‘but I somehow always prefer Chinese the next day.’

‘I haven’t had it in so long,’ Waverly grumbled, her stomach gurgling as the enticing aroma drifted up from the warm plate. ‘I didn’t even realise there _was_ a vegan Chinese restaurant nearby. Isn’t that, like, an oxymoron?’ she added with a giggle.

‘It was – until recently,’ Nicole grinned. ‘This one opened up last month. I keep tabs on them.’

Waverly paused in the act of raising her fork to her mouth, sighed, and lowered it again. ‘You need to stop doing that,’ she murmured.

Nicole frowned. ‘What?

‘Saying stuff like…that,’ Waverly clarified – poorly – as she waved a vague hand in the air.

‘Why?’

Waverly exhaled another deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. ‘Because you’re making it very difficult for me to focus on eating.’

As though the realisation of what the brunette was implying had suddenly dawned on her, Nicole smiled. ‘Oh?’

Waverly spared a glance up but quickly averted her eyes from the blindingly white grin, deep dimples, and self-satisfied caramel gaze. ‘Oh, hush,’ she muttered.

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘ _Stop_.’ Waverly fought against her own smile. ‘I need to eat.’

Apparently torn between continuing the flirtation and allowing Waverly to consume some much-needed sustenance, Nicole took another bite of her food and said nothing. Yet the tension remained; Waverly could feel it in every mouthful, every movement of their hands as they ate, every fleeting look they shared. Her stomach fluttered whenever she caught the redhead’s eye, and it had nothing to do with the (albeit delicious) noodles she was currently nibbling.

Once again, it was Nicole who steered the situation onto safer ground. ‘Is everything set for tomorrow?’ she asked, voice softer, more tender now.

Waverly swallowed the food she was eating as well as the lump that had formed in her throat. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘We finalised everything today.’

‘Nedley and I will be there,’ Nicole said, one hand settling onto Waverly’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. ‘And he’s released me so I can stay for the wake afterwards at _Shorty’s_. I’ll be with you the whole time.’

Waverly nodded, suddenly finding the remaining noodles incredibly unappetising. She put the plate down on the coffee table and Nicole, after doing the same with hers, tugged her into a tight embrace. Waverly nestled into the crook of her shoulder, her legs tucked up beneath her on the sofa, careful not to disturb the ever-present CJ in her usual spot. Allowing herself to sink into the warmth, the heady scent of vanilla that still clung to Nicole’s uniform, and the comfort of her strong arms wrapped around her, Waverly finally felt some peace wash over her.

Tomorrow would be difficult beyond belief, but she knew she would be able to endure it with Nicole by her side.

***

When Waverly would later look back on this day, she would only be able to recall snippets, hazy memories that she couldn’t shape into something substantial before they drifted out of her consciousness.

She would remember the way Wynonna gripped her hand the whole time, squeezing it tightly as though to fight against her own emotions, against the tears that welled in her eyes but did not spill.

She would remember the throng of people muttering generic condolences as they shuffled past, listening but not really hearing a word they said.

She would remember the way her stomach plummeted the same time Curtis’ coffin was lowered into the ground, as though it yearned to join him.

Most of all, though, she would remember Nicole: her voice as she whispered that everything would be okay, that they would get through it; her strength as she leaned down to hug her, imbuing her with a newfound resilience to fight against the grief that threatened to sweep her away; her eyes that forever sought Waverly’s throughout the entire service, reminding her that there was at least one calming presence, a rock amongst the tempestuous tide of anguish.

Eventually, Waverly found herself at _Shorty’s_ alongside Nicole, Gus, and Wynonna – and countless other townsfolk – with very little memory of the journey there. She snapped out of her trance in time to clutch the triple-shot of whiskey that Wynonna wordlessly shoved into her hands.

‘To Curtis,’ her sister muttered, raising her glass and looking between the circle of women. ‘May he find peace with Doris.’

Waverly caught Gus’ eye and they smiled; only Nicole seemed puzzled, so Waverly leaned over and whispered a quick explanation into her ear, eliciting a soft ‘Ohhh’ in response. They each took a sip – or, in Wynonna’s case, an almighty gulp – of their drink and said nothing more. Gus was soon caught up with other locals who came to express their sympathy, this time at greater length, and to share their own reminiscences of one of Purgatory’s most beloved residents. Wynonna stalked off to who-knew-where, leaving Waverly and Nicole alone amidst the semi-crowded bar.

‘You okay?’ Nicole murmured, brushing her fingertips over Waverly’s forearm.

Waverly nodded and tried to offer a weak smile. ‘I am, really. I’m just…glad it’s over, you know? He’s finally at peace.’

‘With a tomato,’ Nicole ventured in a clear attempt to lighten the mood somewhat.

It worked: Waverly breathed a laugh and didn’t feel at all guilty at doing so. ‘With Doris, yes. And Flo, June, Teresa, Agatha.’

‘So, just the female vegetables, then?’

‘Technically, a tomato is a fruit,’ Waverly said, suddenly thoughtful. Nicole’s eyebrows shot up, signifying her disbelief. ‘It’s true. Because they form from the flower of the plant and still contain seeds, just like berries. Same as cucumbers.’

‘Huh. I…did not know that.’

‘They say you learn something new every day,’ Waverly grinned.

‘Especially when in the presence of someone as extraordinary and intelligent as you,’ Nicole beamed back at her.

Waverly slapped her arm and quickly glanced around the bar. ‘Don’t say stuff like that here.’

Apparently hit by the same sense of déjà vu that rippled over Waverly, Nicole smiled more broadly. ‘Why?’

‘Because it makes me want to kiss you and that just wouldn’t do.’

‘You’re right,’ Nicole replied, feigning sobriety. ‘Best behaviour, I promise.’

‘Good. Otherwise I might have to find some way to punish you.’

Even Waverly wasn’t sure quite where _that_ had come from, the audacious, playful retort spilling from her lips before she had even considered what she was about to say. But the corners of her eyes crinkled as she watched Nicole swallow and suck her lips between her teeth to avoid replying. Heartened by her successful wresting of control back from the redhead, Waverly opened her mouth to say more, but –

‘Who’s being punished?’

Waverly spun around to find Wynonna behind her, whiskey glass filled to the brim, looking expectantly between the two women.

‘U-umm,’ she stuttered, feeling her cheeks burn with the awful thought that her sister may well have overheard her rather brazen comment.

‘My cat, Calamity Jane,’ Nicole chipped in, voice far steadier than it had any right to be. ‘She’s been clawing the furniture lately. I think she’s desperate to go outside, but I can’t let her out for another week or so.’

‘Oh.’

Wynonna appeared thoroughly uninterested in the trials and tribulations of life with CJ, and Waverly breathed a furtive sigh. She _really_ needed to speak to her sister about her… _situation_ , before Wynonna found out in a much more embarrassing manner. _Tomorrow,_ Waverly resolved. _Tomorrow morning at breakfast._ That was, if her sister managed to drag herself out of bed this side of noon, of course.

‘Anyway,’ Wynonna said, ‘I’ve got a great idea to liven up this borefest.’

Waverly was about to point out rather snippily that a _wake_ for their _uncle_ was hardly the time for party antics, when the doors of the bar were flung open, crashing against the walls and startling the guests inside. Four men dressed in ratty jeans and grubby flannel shirts stormed in, eyes raking over the crowd.

‘We’re closed,’ Shorty called out. ‘This here is a wake, so please show some respect and leave.’

The nearest man snorted and took two steps further into the bar, still scanning the room with narrowed eyes. His fingers were hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, feet planted wide, mouth twisted into an ugly smirk.

‘You give us what we want, and _maybe_ we’ll get gone,’ he said, voice gravelly as though from years of smoking.

‘And what’s that, exactly?’ Waverly heard Gus reply from somewhere near the pool table.

The man didn’t respond at first; instead, his eyes roamed once more over the guests before finally settling on –

‘Her,’ he muttered, raising his finger to point. ‘Wynonna Earp.’

Brow furrowed, Waverly shot a glance at her sister, who was stony-faced as she stared back at the stranger. She could have sworn she heard her breathe a soft ‘ _Shit_ ’; the sound made Waverly’s stomach churn. Whatever was happening, Wynonna knew what it was about…

‘Just come with us, girlie, an’ no-one’ll get hurt.’

He took four more steps, down the stairs and closer to Wynonna, grey eyes never leaving hers. Waverly’s hand darted out to clutch her sister’s arm, as though to hold her there. On the other side of her, she felt Nicole reach down to her own waist.

‘Crap,’ the redhead whispered. ‘I left my gun at work. Didn’t seem right to bring it to a funeral.’

Her eyes sought Waverly’s then, neither one sure what to do next.

‘And just why the fuck would I do that,’ Wynonna’s voice dragged Waverly’s attention back to the standoff.

The man barked a short laugh. ‘Orders from the boss.’ He licked his lips as he glared down at Wynonna. ‘From Bobo.’

Almost simultaneously, Waverly felt the women either side of her tense. Her own mind was racing, flashes of her recent research swirling before her. Where had she heard that name before?

‘You gotta pay for what you did,’ the man continued. Another step forwards. He was so close now that Waverly could smell the beer and stale sweat that seeped from his grimy pores. ‘Gotta pay for JJ.’

Waverly felt her fingers clenching and unclenching by her sides as she plucked the new name from the air, turning it over in her mind, trying to place it. _Bobo and JJ…_

When Wynonna refused to reply, he took another step closer. Waverly felt Nicole brace beside her; she turned to warn her against acting, but it was too late. Now in _Officer Haught_ mode, Nicole took her own step forwards and squared up to the stranger.

‘Sir, I should warn you that I am a Sheriff’s deputy and you are disturbing a private affair,’ she said, voice like steel as she met the man’s hard gaze. ‘I would strongly advise you turn around and leave before I arrest you for threatening a civilian.’

Whatever response Waverly was expecting then, it was not for all four of the men to laugh uproariously.

‘You hear that, boys?’ the leader guffawed. ‘Wynonna Earp, a civilian?’ He twisted his head back to Nicole, all traces of mirth instantly vanished. ‘Whatever this _bitch_ is, it ain’t no innocent civilian.’

Before anyone could react, he reached around his back and whipped out a rusty hunting knife, brandishing it before him. Other than the half a step backwards, Nicole didn’t move. Rather, she seemed to expand, filling up the space between the aggressor and the Earp sisters, shielding them from his anger.

‘Haught, _don’t_ ,’ Wynonna warned. ‘Don’t be stupid here.’

‘Sorry, Earp,’ Nicole shot over her shoulder. ‘I’m an officer of the law. You can’t stop me from doing my job.’

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Wynonna muttered, eyes darting around as though looking for a solution.

‘You best move, narc,’ the man growled. ‘Ain’t nothin’ gettin’ in the way of us takin’ the Earp bitch.’

Caught between screaming at the pig for his repeated slandering of her sister and grabbing Nicole’s shirt to drag her backwards away from harm, Waverly could only stand there, motionless. If only she had her trusty shotgun with her now…

‘No can do,’ Nicole replied, voice still eerily calm.

But Waverly didn’t have time to admire the efficiency of Nicole’s police training that enabled her to maintain her composure even in such a volatile situation. Something seemed to snap inside the man at the redhead’s latest show of defiance and he lunged forwards, knife plunging towards Nicole.

The next minute shot by so quickly that Waverly hardly had time to process what was happening.

When she would look back on the events that led to two people lying on the floor, bloody and unmoving, she would only recall snippets, panicked, painful memories that would burn in her mind months after the fact.

She would remember the sound of fabric ripping, watching Nicole clutch at her stomach as she collapsed to the floor, the blue of her uniform stained black with the dark liquid that oozed from the gash.

She would remember the screams of the guests as they tried to flee towards the back of the bar, away from the violence and the fury and the chaos that had erupted.

She would remember the deafening shot that ripped through these screams, the ringing sensation that drowned out every other noise, even the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Within thirty seconds, both Nicole and the knife-wielding aggressor had crumpled to the floor in blood-spattered heaps and the other three men had escaped. For three agonising seconds, Waverly simply stared at the redhead, hand suspended in mid-air towards her.

Then, all at once, the cacophony of sounds cascaded over her, shaking her out of her bewildered stupor. Waverly dropped to her knees besides Nicole, trembling fingers seeking the wound from which crimson blood still oozed. She delicately lifted the torn clothing away from the laceration, exhaling a shaky breath when she realised how deep it was. Nicole’s hand grasped hers, her breathing coming fast and ragged.

‘It’s okay, baby,’ Waverly whispered. ‘You’re going to be okay.’ It was only when she heard Wynonna swear that she realised she was kneeling beside her. ‘Call 911,’ she said, voice steeped in barely-disguised panic. ‘We need to get her to the hospital.’

Wynonna nodded and scurried away. Around them, people were shouting, crying, jostling to get out of the bar, but Waverly paid them no attention. Her gaze was fixed on Nicole’s, watching as her eyes fluttered closed and snapped back open with every wince of pain.

‘Don’t you dare close your eyes,’ she hissed, gripping Nicole’s wrist, fingernails digging into the thin flesh. ‘You stay awake, you hear me? You stay with me. _You stay with me._ ’

The words came out in a stutter, pushed past the burning lump in her throat that almost prevented her from breathing. Waverly could feel the hot tears as they slid down her cheeks and she raised a hand to swipe them away, realising too late that it was smeared with Nicole’s blood and had left a trail of gore across her face.

‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Why did you have to be so damn _noble_?’

Holding the now-convulsing woman in her quivering arms, Waverly scanned the room, looking for Wynonna. Why the _fuck_ hadn’t the ambulance turned up yet? Surely it had been long enough? The hospital wasn’t exactly _far_. And just _why_ were these people still here? Couldn’t they see they _weren’t helping_ in the slightest?

When one kindly woman attempted to offer aid, Waverly batted her hand away and glared up at her.

‘Don’t touch her,’ she snapped. ‘Just get away.’ The woman stood there, wide-eyed, frozen. ‘Just _get out_. All of you!’

The last part was screamed to the entire bar, shaky words drawing most gazes towards Waverly. She noted with cloudy indifference that both Gus and Shorty began to chivvy people out of the double doors, the chill of the night air stealing into the bar behind them. But Waverly was too numb to feel it.

‘Wav’ly,’ came the hoarse croak from beneath her.

Waverly immediately snapped her eyes back to Nicole, cupping her cheek in one hand. ‘Shh, don’t speak,’ she murmured. ‘Save your strength.’

Whether she listened to the instruction or she simply didn’t have the energy to try again, Nicole fell silent. Waverly could feel the vitality seeping from her body, her movements becoming less erratic, her breathing slower, face paler. More than once her eyes closed for long seconds at a time, only opening when Waverly shook her arm.

The eventual wail of sirens outside almost made Waverly cry with relief. Two paramedics hurried into the room, one joining Waverly on the floor next to Nicole whilst the other checked the inert figure of the man sprawled three feet away. Without a word, Waverly shuffled backwards and allowed them to work; the mumbled jargon completely eluded her, the only snatches she could grasp being ‘deep laceration’ and ‘blood loss’. Their calm, focused efforts should have soothed her fears, but Waverly found herself exasperated by her own ignorance. She stood up as they lifted Nicole onto a stretcher, nervous fingers longing to reach out and hold the redhead’s hands. Within moments, they were rushing her outside to the waiting ambulance, Waverly scuttling after them.

‘Sorry, ma’am,’ the male paramedic said as she attempted to follow them into the back of the vehicle. ‘This is delicate work and there’s no room for passengers. You can follow behind, if you like.’

And with that, he slammed the doors behind him, the ambulance peeling away down the deserted road, sirens shrieking once more. Waverly stood in the middle of the street, watching as it disappeared round the corner.

‘Come on, baby girl,’ she heard a voice whisper into her ear, arms wrapping around her shoulders. ‘Let’s go after them.’

A nod: that was all Waverly managed as she allowed herself to be steered towards Gus’ blue truck, her aunt already waiting in the driver’s seat as Wynonna eased them both into the back.

One thought pulsed in her mind as they sped towards the hospital.

_Please don’t let her die…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> I-
> 
> ...
> 
> I'm truly sorry.
> 
> If you thought the cliffhanger before their first kiss was bad...
> 
> I'll also apologise in advance if there are any typos or just shoddy parts to this as it's 1am and I tried to get it up before I went to bed, but some rather inane Twitter nonsense kept distracting me. You know who you are *shakes fist*!


	28. The Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly stays - with Gus and Wynonna - at the hospital, anxiously awaiting the outcome of Nicole's surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say this in the last chapter, so I thought I'd share some good news in this one: I have accepted a job to teach in a school in Tokyo from the summer! I am BEYOND excited at the prospect and just felt the need to put it here.
> 
> If there happen to be any Earpers reading this currently residing in Tokyo/the rest of Japan, let me know!
> 
> Anyhoo, that aside, let's get to what you really came for...

One thing Waverly would always remember about those agonising hours spent fretting at the hospital was the smell: the reek of _hospital_ , the lingering disinfectant that reminded her of just how very dirty she was, face still smeared with Nicole’s blood, skirt sticky from kneeling on the floor of the bar. All around her, a plethora of noises mingled to create an overwhelming wall of sound; telephones rang, people chattered or grumbled or cried, some laughed – but it was forced, unnatural amidst the pain and suffering that pervaded every room and every corridor.

Waverly hadn’t even been able to see Nicole before she had been rushed into the operating theatre, long before they had even managed to pull up and jump out of Gus’ truck. She had torn through the entrance, bumbling through frantic questions, until her aunt had managed to explain the situation much more coherently. Five minutes later and they were in the waiting area, with nothing but time on their hands.

Ignoring all requests not to, Waverly paced up and down between the seats, fighting hard not to bite her nails, coated as they were in blood. They had been told nothing except that Nicole had been hurried straight into surgery, that they would do all they could for her.

The reassurance did nothing to knit together Waverly’s frayed nerves.

‘It could be hours, yet, darlin’,’ Gus said quietly, watching her niece tread the same path for the tenth time. ‘Why don’t you sit yourself down an’ rest?’

A shake of the head was all the response Waverly offered as she began her eleventh lap. The jiggling of Wynonna’s leg only just registered in her peripheral vision before her sister jumped up and clutched her wrist, stilling her progress.

‘Right, come on,’ she said, ‘we’re getting you cleaned up.’

Waverly didn’t have the energy to fight. Grasping her elbow, Wynonna led her down a stark white corridor and into the nearby toilets, the garish lights stinging her raw eyes. Whilst her sister gathered up a fistful of tissues, Waverly stared at herself in the mirror; the crimson smudges across her cheeks contrasted awfully with her blanched complexion. The stains only served as a reminder of the horrific scene in the bar and she closed her eyes against the image.

‘Here,’ Wynonna murmured, turning her around and running a wet tissue across her cheeks.

Still Waverly did not open her eyes, focusing instead on the tenderness with which her sister set about cleaning her up. It was a rare reminder of the close bond they were slowly reforming and it went some way to calming her. Neither one spoke until every trace of blood had been scrubbed away; Waverly's hands shook as she allowed the scalding water from the tap to burn away the gore on her hands, too. Once she was done, she finally met Wynonna’s gaze.

‘She’ll be okay,’ Wynonna insisted. ‘She’s tough.’

‘I-I can’t lose her,’ Waverly breathed, voice cracking as a sob threatened to overwhelm her.

Wynonna drew her into a fierce embrace, one hand stroking her sister’s hair, the other wrapped around her back. ‘I know,’ she whispered in her ear. ‘You won’t.’

In her grief-addled mind, Waverly sensed that this was the moment: right now, she should tell Wynonna the truth. Finally. Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth to speak –

‘She’s special to you, isn’t she.’

It wasn’t a question. Not really. More a statement of an observed, unequivocal truth.

Waverly nodded.

‘As in ‘more than friends’ special.’

Waverly hesitated.

Then she nodded again.

‘How long?’

With a twinge of relief, Waverly realised that there was no hint of accusation in her sister’s question, only simple curiosity.

‘...About two weeks,' she mumbled into Wynonna's shoulder

In spite of everything, Waverly felt as though a burden had lifted from her shoulders, the sense of disquiet that had settled upon her ever since she had first kissed Nicole and hidden their relationship from her sister at every opportunity dispelled by the simple admission.

‘Okay.’

That was it. That was all Wynonna had to say. It wasn’t exactly the interrogation Waverly had been imagining all along.

She wasn’t sure quite how she felt about that.

‘Okay?’

‘Yeah.’ Wynonna shrugged and leaned back to look into her sister’s puffy eyes. ‘I can see how happy she makes you, Waves. Far more than Chump fuckin' Hardy ever did, that’s for damn sure.’ Her lips pulled up into a half-smirk and Waverly couldn’t help the breathy chuckle she exhaled in return. ‘I may be blind half the time, mostly because of the booze and the shitshow that is my own life most days, but even I can see that.’ A pause as she seemed to consider something, then: ‘Does Gus know?’

‘Yes. She…she was the one who encouraged me to go for it, in her own way.’

Wynonna’s eyebrows shot up. ‘She did? When?’

‘That night after…after the scene in the bar.’

‘When you ran after her.’

Nodding, Wynonna smiled – a smile that seemed to suggest a moment of dawning realisation. A lightbulb moment, as Waverly’s high school Math teacher had once described it: seeing the bigger picture for the first time, understanding the tiny pieces that merged to create a whole.

‘Of course,’ Wynonna murmured. ‘It makes sense now. Should have seen it earlier, really.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,’ Waverly replied, her words tumbling out in a rush. ‘It was just so new, and I didn’t really know how to face it, let alone talk about it – ’

‘You don’t need to explain yourself, baby girl,’ Wynonna interrupted. ‘I’m just glad you’re happy. You deserve to be.’ A grin crept across her face. ‘But, you know, I totally have to give her the ‘shovel talk’ when all this is over.’

Torn between wanting to laugh at the joke and crying at the prospect that it may never happen, Waverly exhaled a strangled breath. She could say nothing more without weeping; apparently sensing this, Wynonna put one around her shoulder and guided her out of the toilets and back to the waiting area where Gus was sitting flipping through an old magazine. Staring down at her own hands as she slumped into a seat, its tattered cushion depressed from years of anxious sitting by countless relatives, Waverly missed the pointed look that her aunt and sister shared, the silent question about her well-being.

The next hour crawled by far too slowly, punctuated by the occasional trivial comment on the reading material available and the tedious offerings on the tiny television on the nearby wall, by Wynonna’s insistence on getting badly-made coffee for everyone every twenty minutes, none of which Waverly drunk in spite of the exhaustion that clawed at her numb mind and seeped through to her aching bones.

When her stomach growled in protest at the lack of food (she had only managed a morsel of toast that morning before the funeral and nothing since), Gus stood up and gestured for Waverly to do the same.

‘Come on,’ she said, offering her hand to pull her niece up. ‘We need to get some food.’

‘There’s a cafeteria down the corridor,’ Wynonna offered helpfully.

Waverly glanced between them and shook her head. ‘No, I can’t go. What if someone comes out with news?’

‘Waves, it’s going to be hours yet,’ her sister replied, voice soft, as though trying not to offend or upset. ‘We won’t know anything for a while. And you need to eat and drink or else you’ll pass out and end up in a bed here yourself.’ Still Waverly shook her head. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t _abandon_ Nicole. ‘Look,’ Wynonna sighed, ‘I’ll stay here, just in case. But you better bring me a BLT with all the trimmings when you come back.’

‘Half an hour, that’s it,’ Gus added, hand held out towards her niece.

Waverly’s stomach clenched painfully and she finally relented, allowing her aunt to pull her to her feet. Once again, she found herself being steered down another all-too-familiar white corridor, trying not to listen to the urgent, muttered conversations nor the awful beeping of various machines. The stench of antiseptic grew stronger the closer they drew to the cafeteria, enough to deprive Waverly of any craving for food she may have had; yet it was soon replaced by the assortment of aromas that greeted them the moment they arrived at their destination. Amidst the unmistakable hints of sizzling bacon and sausages, she caught the bitter trace of coffee, the saltiness of fries. It felt wrong, somehow, to sit down and enjoy a meal whilst Nicole’s life was hanging by a thread, but her protesting stomach didn’t much care for such ethical dilemmas.

Waverly waited impatiently whilst her aunt fetched their order, returning with a tray laden with different sandwiches and drinks. At her aunt’s insistence, she nibbled a corner of the bread, just about registering the taste of the day-old tomato and cucumber slopped between the two dry slices. Perhaps ‘enjoy’ had been an overstatement…

‘Now, you listen to me,’ Gus began suddenly as Waverly took a cautious sip of her water, ‘I know you want t’ stay here till she comes outta surgery, but you gotta rest. No, don’t interrupt,’ she continued as Waverly tried to do just that. ‘You won’t be any good to her like this.’

Waverly knew, rationally, that Gus was absolutely right, of course. But the thought of leaving the hospital whilst Nicole was lying on a surgical table, whilst she was prodded, cleansed, and sewn up, was out of the question. If something happened to her and Waverly wasn’t there…

‘I know, Gus, but I _can’t_ ,’ she replied, determined to keep her voice firm and steady, to show that there really was no convincing her otherwise. ‘I have to be here when…when it’s all over.’

_One way or the other,_ the insidious niggle at the back of her mind whispered. Waverly closed her eyes against the thought.

Gus sighed. ‘Will you at least go home once you know she’s okay?’

Swallowing, Waverly opened her mouth, but no words came out. She didn’t want to say ‘yes’, because what if Nicole _wasn’t_ okay? She had never been one for superstitions, but it felt too much like tempting fate. Instead, she fixed her aunt with a look that she hoped conveyed the sentiment all the same. It went some way to satisfying Gus, who nodded and took a bite of her own sandwich, grimacing as she did so.

‘We won’t hafta eat this overpriced shit then, either,’ she grumbled.

The next fifteen minutes passed with very little said by either woman, both content to force-feed themselves the meagre offerings the hospital cafeteria could muster. Soon, they were returning to Wynonna, a bottle of water and something that boldly proclaimed itself to be a BLT in hand. The older Earp eyed it warily as she took it.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sorrier looking sandwich in my life,’ she muttered. ‘And that’s saying something.’

***

It was mid-afternoon by the time Gus finally succumbed and left, with a promise to return in a few hours with some better food and a change of clothes for Waverly (her own now crusted with dried blood). Waverly was curled up as comfortably as she could manage – which was to say, not at all – in the rickety chair, legs tucked underneath her, head resting on Wynonna’s shoulder. In the three hours they had been there, she had managed to doze off for a total of twenty-five minutes (she had kept a meticulous count of the passing time on her watch). Whenever she attempted to close her eyes, the scene at the bar resurfaced: flashes of the man as he had lunged at Nicole, knife in hand, of her pale face as she lay in Waverly’s arms – all burning the back of the brunette’s eyelids whenever she tried to snatch a few moments of much-needed rest.

It wasn’t fair, she thought. Today, of all days. To bury Curtis in the morning, only to lose Nicole in the afternoon…

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t _right_.

They deserved better than that.

It was as she closed her eyes again, trying not to envisage the rusty knife and the instant that Nicole had crumpled to the ground, that she felt Wynonna shift. ‘Waves,’ her sister whispered.

Immediately, Waverly’s eyes snapped open, alert and receptive once more. She followed her sister’s line of sight and watched as a male doctor made his way towards them, still clad in his surgical hat and gown. Heart throbbing somewhere in the back of her throat, Waverly leapt to her feet, her whole body quivering with sick anticipation.

‘Miss Earp?’ the doctor asked. Waverly nodded, hands clasped together against her own chest. ‘Here for Nicole Haught?’ An impatient nod this time. ‘Well, Ms Haught lost a fair amount of blood’ – Waverly felt the nausea ripple up her throat, could taste the bile as it burned her tongue – ‘but thankfully the knife missed any vital organs. I’m pleased to say she’s stable now. We managed to stitch her up nicely. She’s still sedated, but you should be able to see her soon.’

Waverly almost collapsed to the floor with the sheer weight of relief that swept over her; her knees buckled, a sob caught in her throat, and she reached out to grip Wynonna’s arm beside her.

‘Thank you,’ Wynonna said to the doctor as she gently pushed Waverly back into her chair.

The man nodded, offered a brief smile, and left.

She was okay. Nicole was _okay_. She was stable. Stitched up. Sedated.

_Safe._

Waverly needed to see her. Awake or not, she _needed_ to watch her breathing, feel the warmth of her hand for herself.

With this desire pulsing through her, Waverly jumped to her feet again and hurried over to the nearby receptionist, who was busy talking on the telephone. She rocked on the heels of her feet, fingers drumming against the desk as she waited, Wynonna hovering beside her.

‘Hi,’ Waverly began the moment the woman had pulled the phone away from her ear. ‘We’ve just been told that Nicole Haught is out of surgery. I need to see her.’

The woman smiled – it was probably a friendly, sympathetic gesture, but Waverly only felt patronised by the kindly eyes and understanding expression. ‘I’m sorry, but if she’s only just come out of the operating theatre, then you’ll have to wait a little longer.’

The brunette curled her hand into a fist, fixing the woman with an unusually steely gaze. ‘Look – ’

‘We’re really sorry,’ Wynonna cut in, covering the incensed trembling of Waverly’s hand with gentle fingers, ‘but couldn’t we just see her for two minutes? We’ve been here for hours and we just want to see that she’s okay with our own eyes.’

If Waverly hadn’t been so absorbed by her own furious indignation, she might have been surprised that it was the older Earp showing some tact for once. The receptionist glanced between them, seeming to weigh up the consequences of refusing a second time, before she forced another smile – this one, Waverly was certain, was anything _but_ friendly.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she replied, picking up the telephone again.

A full thirty seconds elapsed (Waverly counted) whilst the woman murmured into the phone, asking questions and receiving answers that Waverly could barely comprehend in her agitated state.

Finally, she looked back up at the Earp sisters. ‘You can go see her,’ she said. ‘Her room is just down the corridor – number 23.’

Spinning on her heel, Waverly was off before the woman had even finished her sentence. Wynonna had to repeat the number to her as they dashed down the blinding hallway, eyes scanning every placard outside every room. She almost ran past it, but pulled back just in time to catch sight of the correct one. The door was closed, but she could spy a figure with tousled red hair lying prone on the bed; with shaking hands, Waverly grasped the handle and pushed.

What struck her first upon entering the room wasn’t Nicole herself, but the ominous beeping and clicking of the machines, the various tubes that ran from each one, the bag of saline hooked up to the nearby IV drip – and, of course, the perennial reek of antiseptic that clung to every surface. Waverly edged into the room, the comforting warmth of Wynonna’s hand on her back encouraging her forwards.

Nicole looked…dreadful. There were no two ways about it. Her face was almost impossibly pale, her usually warm, vibrant eyes closed as she breathed steadily. Waverly had never seen her look quite so vulnerable.

This realisation forced her further into the room and into the chair next to the bed. She stared at Nicole’s gaunt face as her fingers sought out her hand, gripping it far too tightly and pressing a light kiss to the knuckles. Hot tears stung her eyes and fell freely and she made no effort to swipe them away.

‘I can’t believe I almost lost you,’ she whispered, resting her forehead against the hand she still clutched.

Waverly didn’t register the moment Wynonna decided to slip out of the room, mumbling something about getting another coffee.

Instead, she sat there, thumb caressing Nicole’s cold fingers, swollen eyes never leaving her face. She _would_ be there when Nicole awoke, come hell or high water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've built up the anticipation of the moment Waverly finally tells Wynonna about her relationship with Nicole, and I hope I did it justice here. It's very brief because I didn't want to drag it out. I decided not to go down the 'completely oblivious Wynonna' route, much as it amuses me, but instead to have her come to the realisation herself, albeit gradually and over a number of chapters. Thus, she is not shocked when Waverly admits it here - instead, she accepts it, because, let's face it, Wynonna doesn't care a jot who Waverly ends up with, as long as she's happy and the person is deserving of her baby sister (which, of course, Nicole 100% is!)
> 
> Anyway, more to come soon! Hopefully in the next 2-3 days again. As ever, thank you so much for continuing to read. It brings me such joy. :)


	29. The Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole gradually revives from her surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one this time, just dealing with Nicole's coming-to after the surgery.
> 
> I've got a crazy week ahead work-wise, but will do my best to post the next chapter this week.
> 
> In the meantime, hopefully this will tide you over. :)

Everything was dark.

That was the first coherent thought she could muster.

Though she tried, she found she couldn’t open her eyes. Couldn’t move her hand. Couldn’t speak.

Consciousness crept back minute by slow minute.

It started with the realisation that she was breathing. Always a good thing.

Then it was the recognition of sounds nearby. A clicking. A low hum.

Worst of all was the sensation of touch. A dull ache somewhere in her abdomen. A jagged stab of pain as she tried to move.

Sharp fingernails biting into her arm.

Her eyelids fluttered. Flashes of harsh light and _so much_ _white_. But she couldn’t focus. Her head swam. Her vision blurred, as though time was moving far too slowly for her eyes to process.

Then, a voice. Words that she couldn’t quite comprehend. Someone…shouting. Ears throbbing. Head thumping.

She felt fingers on her other wrist. Could see the shape of a person as her eyes began to adjust. A blue uniform. A police officer? No. Not the right colour. Too light.

A second voice mingled with the other. She caught snippets. _Awake. Stable. Take your time._

‘Nicole?’

The second voice was unfamiliar. A woman’s. She tried hard to focus her wobbly vision on the source.

‘Nicole, can you hear me?’

_Yes._

‘Do you know where you are?’

_No._

‘Take your time. Don’t push yourself.’

_Doing what?_

‘Nicole, sweetie?’

This voice she _did_ recognise.

_Waverly._

She turned her head to the left. A burst of nausea rippled up her throat. A twinge of pain in her abdomen.

But she needed to see.

Brown hair. That was the first thing she registered. The only thing upon which she could concentrate. Then, slowly, other features edged into sharper focus: pursed lips, wide eyes.

_Hazel_ eyes.

‘Wave…’

The word dissolved into the ether. Or perhaps it had never existed, not fully.

She felt her hand being grasped much more tightly. It anchored her to the room a little more.

‘I’m here, baby. I’m right here.’

It was a desperate response, she realised. Anxious. Concerned. But also…relieved.

‘She needs time to come around properly,’ the stranger said. ‘The doctor will be by shortly to check on her again.’

She thought she saw the woman leave.

‘Take your time, sweetie. Just rest. I’ll be right here the whole time.’

A rest sounded good.

She closed her eyes again and allowed sleep to steal her away.

***

When Nicole came to again an hour later, it was to a parched mouth and a pounding headache so severe she thought her skull might split in two. Attempting to sit up, she felt a sudden slicing pain in her abdomen that forced her to take a sharp intake of breath.

It was this that drew Waverly’s attention. ‘Nicole?’ she breathed, fingers still clutching her hand. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Wave…Waverly?’

‘I’m here.’

‘What…what happened?’

There was a pregnant pause, one swollen with indecision and apprehension. Nicole fixed her still-bleary gaze on the brunette, seeking an answer.

‘You don’t remember how you ended up in the hospital?’ Waverly murmured.

Nicole frowned. Her memory was hazy, flashes of _something_ hovering just beyond her consciousness. The last thing she recalled was…

‘Wynonna,’ she croaked. ‘The man…is she okay? Is she hurt?’

A breathy laugh and Waverly burst into tears. ‘Of _course_ you worry about her after what happened to you,’ she said, shaking her head and pressing a shaky kiss to Nicole’s palm. ‘She’s _fine_. Thanks to you.’

The stinging tug in Nicole’s abdomen brought the memory crashing back: the funeral, the wake, the intruders. The knife…

‘Shit,’ she muttered, so quietly that Waverly couldn’t make the word out. ‘What did the doctors say? When…’

She trailed off, but Waverly understood the question nevertheless. ‘They said…you lost a lot of blood. But the…knife’ – she grimaced – ‘missed any vital organs. They said you were…’

‘Lucky,’ Nicole finished the sentence off.

A knife wound to the abdomen was dicey, to say the least. Unpredictable. She had never seen one in person, but they had been taught all about the different types of lacerations during her training at the academy. You either got lucky and were stabbed in the intestines, increasing your chances of survival, or…you didn’t.

Waverly nodded, lips pursed into a thin line again, as though fighting against whatever she wanted to say. Nicole thought she already knew what it was. And yet she would do it all again, given the choice. To serve and protect: words that she lived by.

And, if need be, would die by, too.

Before either of them could address the issue, however, the door was pushed open and in walked Wynonna, carrying two paper cups of coffee, several bags of chips nestled into the crook of her elbow. She stopped dead at the sight of Nicole looking back at her and spread her arms out wide; the chips scattered to the floor.

‘Haught Damn, you’re awake!’ she exclaimed, oblivious to the loss of her snacks.

In spite of the cotton-wool fuzz that still clouded parts of her mind and the pain that dug in her abdomen and the painkillers that slowed her reactions to a crawl, Nicole smiled.

‘Heard it before, Earp.’

The snort of laughter that Wynonna expelled helped to dissipate any lingering tension over the unspoken conversation between Nicole and Waverly, who also chuckled; the sound was more effective than any morphine currently coursing through the redhead’s veins. Wynonna handed the coffees over to her sister and lugged the only other chair in the room closer to the bed so that she was knee-to-knee with Waverly. Accepting the coffee back, she took a sip and fixed Nicole with piercing blue eyes. Something in the look told Nicole that she wouldn’t like what was coming next…

‘So,’ Wynonna began, deliberately dragging out the word. ‘You’re banging my sister.’

It was unfortunate that Waverly had chosen that exact moment to take a gulp of her own drink; she spluttered, spraying the bed cover – and Nicole’s arm – with the dark liquid, and choked into her hand.

‘ _Wynonna!_ ’ she hissed – or at least she tried to through the coughing fit.

Nicole’s eyes flitted between the two sisters, uncertain what, precisely, to say. She wasn’t thinking very clearly as it was, and to attempt this conversation in her current state was…not an inviting prospect, to say the least.

‘Err,’ Nicole mumbled. She caught Waverly nodding at her as though to say _Don’t worry, she knows_. ‘Actually, no, I’m not.’

It was the truth: nothing _had_ happened between them in that regard. And nothing would until Waverly instigated it, as far as Nicole was concerned. She had promised the brunette that she would be in control, that she would set the pace, and she had meant it.

‘So you’re _not_ dating my baby sister?’ Wynonna challenged, eyes narrowed.

‘Wynonna, _stop_ ,’ Waverly groaned. ‘Leave her be. She’s only just come to. Can’t we have this conversation later?’

Though Nicole privately agreed, she knew enough about Wynonna Earp to recognise that she wouldn’t let the issue lie until they had hashed it out. Besides, she had been expecting it ever since Waverly had first kissed her all those long nights ago...

‘We are,’ she replied, pushing the words up her dry throat, yearning for a glass of water to quench her parched tongue. ‘But nothing more has happened. So you can give me your ‘big sister’ talk if it’ll make you feel better. First, though, I need a drink.’

‘Waves, that’s your job,’ the older Earp said without averting her eyes from Nicole’s.

Nicole bit back the smile she could feel forming. The ploy was obvious: she knew it, Wynonna knew it, and Waverly knew it.

‘If you think I’m leaving this room – ’ Waverly began, but Nicole silenced her with nod.

‘It’s okay,’ she assured her, voice still raspy. ‘And I really _could_ do with a drink.’

She smiled and squeezed the hand that still gripped hers, hoping that the combination would convey her feelings more effectively than her words. It seemed to work, for Waverly – albeit incredibly reluctantly – sighed and stood up. When she reached the doorway, she glanced back at them both for a brief moment before closing the door and disappearing down the hallway.

As soon as Waverly was gone, Wynonna sat back in her chair and took another sip of her coffee. ‘So…’

‘Round two,’ Nicole chuckled. ‘You’ll have to go easy on me, though. I’m not in the best position to defend myself here.’

‘You’re dating my sister,’ Wynonna repeated, this time without Waverly to interrupt.

‘You already asked that.’

‘But I want to make sure I heard right.’

‘Then yes, I am.’

Wynonna nodded but didn’t say anything. Instead, she continued to drink, tilting the paper cup almost vertically in order to drain the dregs from the bottom. Nicole watched…and waited.

Eventually, Wynonna placed the empty cup on the nearby side table and looked at Nicole once more. ‘Look, Waves is an adult. She can date whoever the hell she wants, and quite frankly I’m just glad she ditched that dickhead Chump Hardy.’ Nicole chuckled. _You and me both._ ‘I just want to see her happy, and if being with you does that, then so be it.’

‘Wynonna, I would _never_ hurt her,’ Nicole insisted, the words scratching her dry throat. ‘I care about her. A _lot_.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Good. So we know where we stand then.’

This time, Wynonna smirked as she nodded. ‘I guess we do.’

That was the end of the conversation, for at that moment the door was flung open again and in strode Waverly, glass of water in hand, eyes darting between the two women. Nicole noticed with some amusement that there were dribbles of the clear liquid running down the side of the glass and onto the brunette’s hand: evidence of the haste with which she had returned to the room. Shooting the redhead a look loaded with a silent question, she handed the drink to Nicole, who accepted it gratefully and took a large gulp; the cool water soothed her aching throat and she sighed into the glass.

The constant glances that Waverly gave both women as she sat back down spoke of her nerves, of the burning desire to ask how everything went that was bubbling within her. Yet she refrained: whether because she was afraid of the answer or because she didn’t think it was appropriate, Nicole couldn’t tell. Wanting to assuage her doubts in some way, she reached out and took one of Waverly’s hands in hers, already missing the contact that had been taken from her when the brunette had left the room; the gesture appeared to help, for Waverly visibly relaxed, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension seeped from her muscles. Wynonna looked down at the subtle display of public affection then back at her sister, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at her lips.

‘You finally picked a good one.’


	30. The Convalescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly gets some much-needed rest before returning to the hospital to be with Nicole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest time in between updates (5 whole days!), partially because of work and partially because I wanted to submit something for the EFA prompt.
> 
> Again, nothing too long, and it's 2.30am here, so apologies for any errors or oversights!

Waverly had been on her way to Nicole’s house to check in on CJ when she had abruptly turned around and returned home instead. After hastily packing an overnight bag, she jumped back into her jeep and sped off once more. She tried to tell herself that it was for CJ’s sake – she had, after all, been alone for the better part of an entire day once again – but she knew better. She pushed the thought away, not wanting to dissect it whilst attempting to navigate the darkened roads of Purgatory.

It was late, almost ten o’clock, when Waverly pulled up outside of Nicole’s house. The night sky was overcast, the moon occasionally peeking through the cover of the clouds and bathing everything in its pale light. Fumbling with Nicole’s key in the darkness, Waverly eventually managed to open the front door and stumble through, bag in hand. Almost immediately, she was accosted by a very desperate-sounding CJ, the feline wrapping around her leg and mewling a high-pitched, incessant whine.

‘I know,’ Waverly murmured as she closed the door behind her. ‘You must be starving. Let’s get you some food, shall we?’

Flicking on the light switches as she went, she hurried into the kitchen, CJ trotting along beside her and almost tripping her up more than once as she tried to weave in front of Waverly’s feet. The cat practically pounced on the food bowl as Waverly placed it on the floor; she risked one quick stroke of CJ’s head as she smiled down at her, before sighing and grabbing her bag once more.

She was exhausted, limbs and eyes and heart heavy as she plodded up the stairs. The morning’s events felt like a lifetime ago, saying their last farewells to Curtis before heading to _Shorty’s_ for the wake. How could it possibly have been only twelve hours since leaving the ranch? So much had happened: so many tears shed, so much heartache – Waverly wasn’t sure she could handle any more. Not without breaking down entirely.

Just about managing to summon the energy to brush her teeth and strip out of the outfit Gus had brought back to the hospital earlier that evening, Waverly paused in the act of pulling her pyjamas out of her bag. An absurd idea pierced the sleepy fogginess in her mind and she wandered back into the bathroom, spying the wicker laundry basket tucked into the corner. She flipped it open; lying on top was a white polo shirt, which Waverly recognised as the one Nicole had worn the very last evening she had turned up to help them fix up the homestead. Without bothering to justify the action, Waverly quickly tugged it over her head and let it fall over her body, loose and saturated with the faint scent of vanilla and something distinctly _Nicole_.

Satisfied, she padded back into the bedroom and slipped between the cool sheets, burying her face into the pillow and sighing. It, too, exuded faint traces of vanilla; Waverly supposed Nicole must use a shampoo or perfume infused with its extract for it to cling so stubbornly to every fabric that her body touched. The smell calmed her, allowed her to sink further into the downy softness of the pillow, to curl into the thick blankets.

Yet still sleep would not arrive to claim her. With her eyes squeezed shut, Waverly found herself thinking about Nicole: lying in the hospital bed, alone and in pain. She had tried to resist leaving at all, but Nicole herself had insisted she go home to rest (and politely asked her to feed CJ first). She had no idea that Waverly had decided to just…not go home at all.

Surrounded now by the comforting silence of the midnight hour, Waverly could at last unpick her reasons for doing so. It was simple, she supposed: she needed to feel close to Nicole. After nearly losing her, watching her slip away in her arms…

‘Stop it,’ she chastised herself, hissing into the darkness.

Her words appeared to carry through the open doorway, for moments later she felt something light jump onto the bed, tiny paws creeping towards her. Waverly turned her head and could just about make out the silhouette against the gloom; the rumble of CJ’s purrs as Waverly reached out to scratch her head vibrated beneath her fingertips. She smiled as the feline flopped down next to her, nestling her warm head against Waverly’s arm, effectively trapping it there.

She reckoned there were worse ways to finally fall asleep.

***

Nicole awoke to the now-familiar clicking of her IV, her mouth dry, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. Grimacing, she attempted to open her eyes, but the glare of the sunshine as rays sliced through the semi-open blinds forced her to shut them again with a groan.

‘About time you woke up.’

Startled by the voice, Nicole snapped her eyes open and glanced around until her sleep-bleary brain focused on a figure lounging in the nearby chair, boot-clad feet propped up on the edge of her bed.

‘Wynonna?’ she croaked. ‘What…what time is it?’

‘The ass crack of dawn,’ Wynonna grumbled, taking a long sip of her coffee. ‘Or somewhere past six. I don’t know. I’m not usually awake at this ungodly hour.’

Nicole frowned, allowing her fuzzy mind to absorb the older Earp’s words before replying. ‘So…why are you here?’

‘What, I can’t visit a friend who nearly died defending me from a crazed hick with a knife?’ Wynonna’s feigned indignation drew a sceptical look from the redhead and she shrugged. ‘I promised Waves I would look in on you. It was the only way I could get her to swear not to come back until she had properly rested and eaten something.’

Nicole didn’t respond. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she _couldn’t_ ; her throat felt suddenly tight, the assortment of emotions that welled up within her swelling to such a size that she couldn’t force any words out. Looking the dark-haired woman in the eye, she could see something there that she had seen precious little of until she had made the fateful decision to move to Purgatory: friendship, trust, affection.

After a lifetime of neglect and discarded love, she now had at least two people who cared enough to put their own lives on hold to look after her, to simply sit with her in the most sorrowful and mundane of settings so that she didn’t feel alone. Nobody ever _liked_ hospitals; they only visited, only gave up entire chunks of their day doing nothing but waiting, when they actually _liked_ the other person.

If there was one good thing to come out of the past twenty-four hours, Nicole thought, it was the realisation that she had finally found a home.

***

Unable to wait any longer, Waverly returned to the hospital whilst finishing the breakfast she had reassured her sister she would eat _before_ arriving. She brushed away the crumbs of the pastry from the front of her blouse and made the short journey to Nicole’s room, holding her breath so as not to inhale too much of the reek of antiseptic as she went. Almost absent-mindedly, she offered warm smiles to everyone she passed, her heart beating faster in her chest as she neared her destination. It had only been ten hours since she had seen Nicole, and yet…

Arriving at room 23, Waverly reached out to push the door open, but stopped when she heard voices filtering through the gap in the door. She peered through and found Wynonna leaning back in her chair, packet of chips in hand, laughing at something Waverly hadn’t caught. Watching as Nicole joined in the mirth, Waverly couldn’t help but smile at the sight; quite _why_ she had ever worried about Wynonna’s reaction to her relationship with the redhead, she didn’t know. It seemed ridiculous to her now. Sure, Nicole wasn’t anything like the people Wynonna used to hang around with when they were younger, but who _couldn’t_ help but be drawn to such goodness, such selflessness?

Waverly was still standing there, not wanting to disturb the moment of bonding between the two women, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around, startled, to find herself face-to-face with a relatively young and handsome male doctor.

‘You know, you _are_ allowed in to visit,’ he said with a smile.

‘Oh, um…yes. I just…’

Waverly had no idea what she could say to explain away why she was standing outside, gawking into the room, so she shrugged. The man chuckled and gestured for her to follow him inside. She did so, her heart fluttering as she watched Nicole’s face light up with a smile the moment she saw Waverly. Wynonna vacated her seat, allowing her sister to take it instead, and fetched the other one from the corner of the room for herself.

‘Good morning,’ the doctor said cheerily as he fished up the clipboard with Nicole’s medical notes and peered down at it. ‘How are you feeling today?’

‘A little sore,’ Nicole admitted. Waverly took hold of her hand and squeezed, relishing the contact once more. ‘But other than that, not bad.’

‘It’s only natural to feel tender for some time after a wound like that. You’ll need to take pain medication for at least a week once we discharge you, as well as antibiotics to ensure you don’t develop an infection after the surgery. The wound was fairly deep, so it’s going to take some time to heal properly. You’ll need to schedule regular visits to your primary physician so they can check on its progress and redress the wound, at least initially. After a while, you’ll be able to do that yourself.’ He paused, put the clipboard back into its holder at the end of the bed, and offered a broad, brilliant smile. ‘But don’t worry. After about a month or two, you’ll be back in top shape,’ he added with a not-so-subtle wink.

Waverly couldn’t help it. His smile, _that_ wink – it may have been harmless, all in the name of friendly bedside manners, but she felt her body go rigid, her free hand clenching into a fist in her lap. Nicole was apparently oblivious to it, for she simply nodded and returned a weak smile.

‘Thank you, doctor,’ she replied. ‘Honestly, I can’t wait to get out of here.’

‘Another day or two and you should be good to go, barring any complications. Do you have anybody at home who could help you during your recovery?’

Again, it was an innocent question – a very necessary, completely professional one at that. But something in the doctor’s expression, the way his eyes held Nicole’s gaze as he asked it, made Waverly’s blood boil. She clutched Nicole’s hand in both of hers and pressed a firm kiss to the knuckles, smiling at the redhead as she did so.

‘Don’t worry, baby,’ she said sweetly, ‘I’ll be round every day to make sure you’re okay.’

She flicked her eyes up to the doctor’s and felt a smirk tug at the corner of her lips at the look on his face, the fleeting frown that furrowed his brow as the realisation slowly dawned. A hastily stifled snort of laughter from behind her told her that Wynonna found the sight just as amusing.

‘Anyway,’ the doctor said quickly, clearing his throat with a cough, ‘I – or another of my colleagues, more likely – will be around later to check on you again. Just ring the buzzer in the meantime if you need anything.’

With that, he scurried out of the room without even waiting for Nicole’s response. Waverly loosened her grip on Nicole’s hand but didn’t let go, instead caressing it with her thumb as she found Nicole’s gaze, honey-brown eyes watching her, one eyebrow quirked.

‘Just what was _that_?’ she asked with a low chuckle.

‘That, Haught Stuff, was jealousy rearing its ugly head,’ Wynonna chimed in before Waverly could even open her mouth. She dragged her chair closer to the bed so that she was right next to her sister. ‘Didn’t know you had it in you, baby girl.’

Waverly shot Wynonna a pointed glare, warning her not to say any more. ‘I never had a reason to before,’ she muttered.

Another derisive snort. ‘That’s for damn sure,’ her sister agreed. ‘Who the fuck could ever be jealous of Chump Horny?’

This time the laughter came from Nicole; she had taken a sip of water and swallowed it _just_ in time. A second later, however, she clutched her stomach with her free hand and winced.

‘Don’t make me laugh,’ she groaned. ‘It hurts too much.’

They sat like that for another hour or so, passing the time by talking about little of importance, Nicole desperately trying not to react to Wynonna’s snarky comments for fear of pulling her stitches, Waverly revelling in the little community they had built between them. Since the time their mama had up and left them with little more than a rushed note for an explanation, she had never truly felt as though their family had been complete. Even when Gus and Curtis had taken them in, had showered them with all the care and affection she had sought her entire childhood, it had never been the same, had never filled the void hidden in her heart, the one that yearned for love and acceptance from everybody she met.

But now?

Sitting there – with Nicole idly stroking her knuckles and gazing down at her with what could only be described as adoration, a soft smile ghosting across her lips whenever she caught the brunette’s eye, and with Wynonna throwing out her own brand of affection as she found new ways to rib the redhead at every possible opportunity – Waverly realised that, in that very moment, she could want for nothing more.

She was…happy. It was a strange sensation, feeling content in spite of everything that had happened. A niggling guilt threatened to worm its way into her mind, but she quashed it, knowing that Curtis wouldn’t want her to sacrifice her own happiness to mourn his passing.

So, instead, she focused on the scene in front of her, on the feel of Nicole’s hand and the sound of Wynonna’s laugh. She focused so hard on each tiny detail to ground her in the moment, to stop her mind from running away with other thoughts that she didn’t want to deal with right then.

It was as she stood up to close the blinds a little to divert the sun from Nicole’s eyes that Wynonna stared at her, scrutinising her outfit for the first time. ‘Is that a new top?’ she asked. ‘Think you got the wrong size. It’s way too big for you.’

Waverly glanced down, suddenly remembering that she had borrowed one of Nicole’s that morning. In her rush to get to CJ, she had somehow forgotten to pack a spare one of her own in her overnight bag and didn’t want to turn up at the hospital in the same one as yesterday. She had chosen a plain white V-neck t-shirt, hoping that it would be innocuous enough to go unnoticed.

Obviously, she hadn’t banked on Wynonna’s eagle eye and sixth sense for an opportunity to embarrass her little sister.

Her eyes darted up to Nicole’s; the raised eyebrow and slight curve of her lips told Waverly she knew _exactly_ where the top had come from.

‘Um, yeah,’ she mumbled as she sat down again.

Wynonna’s narrowed gaze held hers for a few moments more before she slapped her thighs and pushed herself up from the chair. ‘Right, I better go, anyway. Stuff to see, people to do. You know how it goes.’

‘Don’t you mean ‘stuff to _do_ , people to _see_ ’?’ Waverly countered, rolling her eyes.

‘Same difference,’ Wynonna shrugged. ‘Later taters. Try not to miss me too much.’

And, with a wink and a half-wave, half-salute, she was off. Waverly turned her attention back to Nicole, who was now grinning broadly.

‘Looks good on you,’ she said. ‘I take it feeding CJ wasn’t the only thing you did at my house last night.’

Waverly felt a warmth singe her cheeks. She knew Nicole wouldn’t mind that she had stayed over, but it had been the first time she had done so, and without the redhead’s knowledge – or permission. And in her absence, no less.

‘I, er…decided to stay,’ she confessed. ‘CJ had been alone all day, you know, and I just thought…it would be nice to keep her company.’

‘Uh huh,’ Nicole replied, looking thoroughly unconvinced by the admittedly thoroughly unconvincing lie. ‘It’s okay. I don’t mind that you stayed. I just wish I could have been there, too.’

Her expression softened, her hand reaching out to take Waverly’s in hers, holding it as she had done for the majority of the morning. Waverly simply smiled, relaxing under the tender gaze and gentle touch. Despite the pervading stench of disinfectant, the incessant whir and click of the machines, and the awful slop that claimed to be actual food, Waverly knew there was nowhere else she would rather be. When she had left the hospital the night before to grab some much-needed rest, she had been able to think of nothing else but Nicole. And when she left later that day, thoughts of the redhead would once again preclude everything else. Waverly desired nothing more than to keep her company, to sit with her as she convalesced, whether in comfortable silence or talking about trivial matters.

Whatever else happened, she knew she would always feel safe with Nicole. And, for Waverly Earp, there was nothing that she longed for more than that.


	31. The Recovery Period

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly helps Nicole during her healing process and they both ponder the next step in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one has taken so much longer to get up! Work has been super busy recently given we are coming to the end of the school year, but we are on the home stretch of online teaching and learning at last.
> 
> I want to apologise for not having responded to all the lovely comments people have been leaving over the past few chapters (see above!), but know that I am incredibly grateful for the wonderful feedback and to all of you who keep returning to this little fic each time. You guys are the reason I continue.

Nicole was finally discharged from the hospital the following day with strict instructions not to overexert herself in any way, to rest as much as possible, and to ensure her dressings were changed every day – at first by her physician, and then at home once the wound had started to heal properly.

Waverly had insisted upon staying with Nicole during this period of recuperation, especially since she had been given a further two weeks’ leave from work to help with the healing process and thus had nothing to occupy her mind whilst at home. She had attempted to negotiate the time down to ten days instead, but Nedley wouldn’t brook any argument.

Thus, she now found herself being nursed by Waverly a week after she had left the hospital, the brunette’s delicate fingers peeling the gauze away from her abdomen and inspecting the wound with a furrowed brow as Nicole perched on the edge of her kitchen table.

‘Looks like it’s closing up nicely,’ Waverly said, peering at the still-fresh scar with narrowed eyes. ‘Externally, at least.’

Nicole fought to suppress the shiver that the soft brush of Waverly’s cool fingertips elicited. The patch of skin was still tender, but she was sure that _wasn’t_ the cause. Trying to ignore the sensation, she instead focused on Waverly’s adorably scrunched-up face as she concentrated on reapplying a fresh dressing.

One upside to the recent fiasco was that they had managed to spend a lot more time together in the past week, Waverly opting to spend the night each time just in case Nicole had needed assistance or took a turn for the worse. Things between them had not yet progressed to a more intimate level – especially not in her current condition – but the hours alone had allowed them to indulge in plenty of in-depth discussions involving every topic imaginable: amusing childhood anecdotes (what little of them they both had to share), awkward adolescent reminiscences, dream holiday destinations, least favourite foods, and on and on the list went. The more she discovered about the youngest Earp sister, the more Nicole craved this new knowledge; she found she could listen to Waverly wax lyrical about her studies, her favourite historical eras and languages, for hours on end. On more than one occasion, she had allowed herself to sink into Waverly’s passionate retelling of some of history’s most obscure events, revelling in the way the brunette’s voice rose just an octave higher as she allowed her excitement to infuse every word, in the way her eyes almost danced with the exhilaration of being allowed the freedom to share her obsession with someone else.

Those same eyes were now fixed on Nicole’s, watching her intently. ‘What are you thinking about?’ Waverly murmured, smoothing the adhesive tape over the gauze as she spoke.

A soft smile crept onto Nicole’s face and she covered Waverly’s hand with her own. ‘You,’ she said simply. ‘How extraordinary you are.’ Nicole caught the moment Waverly’s doubt seeped in, the slight flicker of her eyelids and the twitch of her fingers that still rested on the redhead’s stomach betraying her deep-rooted insecurities. ‘I know you don’t always believe it because of what you’ve been through,’ she continued, tucking a lock of loose hair behind Waverly’s ear, her thumb caressing her cheek, ‘but I will keep reminding you for as long as you allow me to.’

Her eyes fluttering closed, Waverly leaned further into Nicole’s touch. When they opened again, Nicole could read the intent that shone in them almost immediately. Waverly’s hand moved from Nicole’s abdomen to her neck, her fingers curling around, pulling the redhead closer to her and into a gentle yet insistent kiss.

There was something…different about it this time. The way Waverly’s left hand reached up to fist into Nicole’s hair, her grip almost desperate, and the way her right hand moved to squeeze the back of Nicole’s neck, making her head tilt back ever so slightly and changing the angle of the kiss – Nicole felt the intensity of it spread to every extremity, her fingers tingling as they grasped Waverly’s hip in an effort to steady her.

Things were changing.

That was the only thought Nicole could cling to as she lost herself in the soft touch and the floral scent and the intoxicating taste of Waverly Earp.

Yet the connection was cut far too short, far too soon. In the heat of the moment, Waverly’s hand drifted from Nicole’s neck and back down to her abdomen, eager fingers pressing into the tender flesh next to the dressing. Wincing, Nicole recoiled involuntarily; Waverly drew back, her eyes wide as she realised what she had done.

‘Oh god, I’m so sorry,’ she breathed. ‘I didn’t mean – ’

‘It’s okay,’ Nicole whispered, fighting against the pain to smile. ‘Still sore.’

Waverly nodded and pulled back further, her fingertips grazing along Nicole’s arm as she retreated, the touch lingering. ‘Why don’t I make some drinks whilst you pick a film and get settled on the couch? I’ve got a few hours before I need to be at work.’

Nicole dutifully obliged and made her way over to the sofa whilst Waverly busied herself in the kitchen; she could hear the sounds of the cupboard opening, mugs clinking together, kettle boiling on the stove. She _really_ needed to replace that coffee machine, especially since she no longer needed an excuse to visit the diner to see Waverly. With the tinny whistle of the kettle ringing out behind her, Nicole crouched down to inspect her DVD drawer; it was woefully short on titles given she rarely had the time to lounge in front of the television, but one caught her eye immediately: a recent purchase. She fished it out with a knowing smirk.

‘What did you choose?’ Waverly asked as she settled down next to Nicole and handed her a mug of herbal tea (she had insisted upon Nicole drinking at least one every day during her recovery, and Nicole found it rather pleasant despite her initial protests).

Quirking an eyebrow, Nicole smiled and pressed play on the remote. When the title screen flashed up, Waverly grinned, too.

‘I thought, seeing as we never managed to watch it completely last time, we ought to give it another go,’ Nicole replied as Hugh Jackman’s silhouetted figure appeared in full circus regalia.

‘I think it’s already one of my favourite films anyway,’ Waverly smirked, reaching out to squeeze Nicole’s forearm once before nestling further back into the cushions of the sofa.

As Nicole took a tentative sip of her own drink, she couldn’t help but privately agree.

***

This routine continued for another two weeks, Waverly spending most of her free time tending to Nicole until her wound had completely healed. She knew that it still twinged occasionally, but barring any sudden movements, the pain had almost entirely receded. She had been hesitant at first when Nicole had informed her that she was returning to work, but knowing that she was assigned to desk duty for a further three weeks alleviated any fears that needled her mind.

In spite of everything that had happened, Waverly couldn’t help but feel oddly grateful for the time it had allowed them to spend together since Nicole had been discharged from hospital. Since the first time she had walked into Nicole’s room after the surgery, she had noticed the change in the way her body reacted to the redhead’s presence; her stomach fluttered more violently every time she opened the door to Waverly, every time she reached out to touch her, every time they kissed. At times, her heart beat so fast it was almost painful, her blood coursing through her veins like molten fire under even the gentlest caress of her cheek, her arm, her thigh.

These sensations were only heightened each night Waverly spent in Nicole’s bed, the redhead’s arm draped around her waist and pulling her into an embrace that only became tighter as her wound healed and the ache dulled with each passing day. It was entirely innocent, both of them clad in their respective nightwear, and yet Waverly could feel the insistent pressure low down every time Nicole’s fingers brushed against her abdomen as they both drifted off into a welcome slumber.

It was during the third week of Nicole's recuperation that Waverly lay awake one night after returning from work, staring up at the ceiling in the dim moonlight that filtered through the blinds, one hand idly stroking CJ’s head as the feline stretched out on the bed beside her. She knew now that (mostly) chaste touches and even passionate kisses were no longer enough; she yearned for more, _needed_ to discover the remaining mysteries that Nicole had thus far kept hidden. To really _feel_ and _learn_ and _understand_ , in a way only the highest form of intimacy offered. Almost losing her to one rash act had only consolidated this desire, one that had been steadily building ever since their relationship had finally been kindled. And with Nicole’s wound almost entirely healed…

‘You’re still awake,’ came Nicole’s husky voice, cracking with the drowsiness that still enveloped her.

Waverly rolled over to face her, finding Nicole’s eyes as they reflected the light of the moon that speckled the bedsheets. ‘Yeah. Just…thinking about things.’

‘What kinds of things?’

Hesitating, Waverly didn’t answer immediately. It was silly, she knew, but outright explaining her train of thoughts seemed almost…childish. They were adults; taking that next step didn’t need careful planning and organising as it had when she had been a teenager, navigating her first time with Champ (her nose wrinkled as she recalled the immense disappointment of that evening, the realisation that it somehow wasn’t as exciting and satisfying as she had been led to believe). And yet she wanted to let Nicole know that she was ready to take it nevertheless. Waverly had seen the look in the redhead’s eyes a number of times recently, the same longing she knew shone in hers more and more often nowadays, understood that Nicole had been waiting patiently for Waverly’s admission that she wanted it, too. She wondered, almost absently, whether it would have already happened if not for the length of time it had taken for Nicole to heal…

‘Just…about us.’

Nicole shifted on the bed, raising her head slightly to peer down at the brunette; Waverly could no longer see her eyes clearly, the new angle shielding them from the glint of moonlight that had caught them previously.

‘Everything okay?’

Heart clenching in her chest, Waverly dragged her hand up to find Nicole’s cheek, stroking it in a way she hoped conveyed some sense of reassurance.

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I’ve just been coming to some… _decisions_.’

The way she emphasised the final word left no room for misinterpretation, and Waverly fancied she heard the subtle breath as it hitched in Nicole’s throat. The redhead didn’t say anything, however; instead, she lay her head back down on the pillow, her eyes gleaming once more as Waverly held her gaze.

‘Okay,’ came the reply.

One word: that was all it took to communicate Nicole’s steadfast patience, her willingness to wait. Waverly allowed her hand to fall away from Nicole’s face, fingertips grazing as much of her warm skin as possible before she rolled back over and tugged her girlfriend’s arm around her once more.

Soon, she thought as she closed her eyes. It would be soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I found this one incredibly difficult to write (not sure whether it's the pressure of all the work I have as well as just finding the content harder this time around), and I'm not entirely happy with it. I cut it shorter than I originally planned (what's new there?), so there's that, too. But I didn't want it to fester any longer, so...here it is, I suppose!
> 
> On the plus side, less dialogue and more introspection this time - always looking for the silver linings haha.


	32. The Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole learns more about the Earps' secretive past and Waverly deals with the unexpected revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given the length of time in between my last updates, I thought it was only fair to get this one up soon after the previous one as a peace offering haha.
> 
> Some more exposition here, but it is necessary, especially for what is to come in later chapters...
> 
> Hopefully you'll enjoy!

Five days later and Nicole was sitting at her desk in the Sheriff’s department, idly flicking through some paperwork that Nedley had requested, desperately trying to stop her mind from wandering onto more interesting topics. Still unable to answer callouts, she had instead been reduced to checking the accuracy of written reports and occasionally assisting with interrogations where necessary. Whilst she didn’t miss the ongoing struggles with Mrs. Johnson’s mischievous cat, she _was_ beginning to feel the itch to be back out on the street, patrolling in her cruiser and helping the town’s civilians in a more active capacity. Still, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time that day, another two weeks and she would be free to roam once more.

It was as dusk was beginning to settle over Purgatory, the pale moon joining the waning sun in the cloudless sky, that an expected visitor graced the PSD with her presence. Looking up at the sound of heavy boots clipping the linoleum floor, Nicole was surprised to find herself face-to-face with the middle Earp sister.

‘Wynonna,’ she greeted her with a smile. ‘What brings you here? No, wait, don’t tell me: another drunkard took offence to your pool hustle?’

Wynonna pretended to be somewhat scandalised by such a suggestion as she smirked and shook her head. ‘Nope, not this time, Dimples.’ Apparently having abandoned the search for an original pun, the dark-haired woman leaned against the counter, her eyes flicking over to the door of the Sheriff’s office. ‘Nedley needs my help.’

Nicole had to fight – _hard_ – to stifle the disbelieving snort that _almost_ escaped. In all the weeks she had been the Sheriff’s deputy, she had never once heard Randy Nedley offer a single word of praise for the older Earp, choosing instead a disgruntled silence whenever her name happened to crop up. The feeling, it had transpired, was entirely mutual, Wynonna rolling her eyes and offering a sardonic retort whenever the Sheriff’s name was dropped in a conversation. The image of them working together, combining forces for the greater good of the town, was difficult to envisage, to say the least.

‘Oh?’ Nicole said, leaning back in her chair to scrutinise Wynonna’s impassive expression. ‘Anything to do with that night in the bar, by any chance?’

‘Bingo.’ Seemingly impatient, Wynonna craned her neck to glance into the darkened office behind. ‘He tells me to be punctual, but he’s not even here himself. Typical.’

‘He took a callout earlier,’ Nicole explained, following the other woman’s gaze. ‘He should be back soon.’

With an exaggerated sigh, Wynonna slumped into a nearby chair, swivelling it around on its wheels in the manner of an excitable child. Yet the look on her face was anything _but_ excited. On the contrary, she appeared a little haggard, her usual witty exuberance greatly diminished. Nicole hadn’t seen much of her since being discharged from the hospital, and yet the difference in appearance was striking.

‘Is everything okay?’ she asked quietly as she leaned forwards in her chair. ‘You seem…not unwell, exactly, but…’

She couldn’t find the words to complete her thought, so left it hanging in the air, hoping Wynonna herself would finish it instead. At first, it seemed as though she wouldn’t oblige; Nicole watched as the corner of Wynonna’s eye twitched and the muscle in her jaw tensed, clear signs of her discomfort and wariness. The next moment, however, she relaxed, her shoulders sagging as she propped her feet up on the desk in front of her.

‘Has Waves ever told you what happened when we were kids?’ The question caught Nicole off-guard, her brow furrowing as she considered it. ‘The reason why we left the homestead in the first place?’

‘Not entirely, no,’ Nicole admitted. ‘She’s told me…bits and pieces of your family history, and I know something awful happened one night that made you leave, but that’s it.’

Thus far, Nicole had managed to keep her curiosity in check; she respected Waverly’s feelings and privacy too much to push her to reveal more than she was comfortable. She knew that the brunette would tell her when she was ready. And yet, with the prospect of finding out the truth from Wynonna dangling in front of her, Nicole found she couldn’t suppress the compulsion to learn more.

Wynonna exhaled a weary sigh and sat up straight in her chair. ‘You know the Revenants are the big, bad gang from round the way.’ Nicole nodded, though it was more of a statement than a question, she realised. ‘Well, our dickhead of a dad got caught up in some dodgy dealings with their then-leader, Joshua Svane. Took bribes in return for turning a blind eye to their actions.’

Nicole felt her fingers clench into fists on her lap, the involuntary action stemming from the deep-seated loathing she harboured for the corruption that tainted police forces across the country. Her desire to join the force herself had been born from her adolescent, righteous fury over the abuse of power those in authority often wielded, determined to right some of the wrongs of the world in her own way. The fact that someone so immoral could be responsible for raising someone as virtuous and _good_ as Waverly (and even Wynonna, in spite of her brash exterior) was something that Nicole found difficult to comprehend. Then again, it wasn’t so very different to her own childhood, she reasoned.

‘Anyway, one day he tried to back out of the deal after his deputy found out. He didn’t threaten anything, but daddy dearest knew it was only a matter of time. Cutting a long story short, a group of those same dickweeds came knocking one night. They took our older sister as collateral, and he ran out after her, but…’

Something flickered in Wynonna’s eyes that looked very much like remorse, like the sting of an old wound reopening countless times over. She took another steadying breath, deliberately averting her eyes from Nicole’s inquisitive gaze.

‘I was only twelve. Waves was six. Somehow, I thought it was up to me to save them both, so I picked up the gun he had left behind and…shot.’

Nicole didn’t need to hear any more; it was clear what had happened next. She tried to convey this, to let Wynonna know that she didn’t need to put herself through the torment of admitting it aloud, but she found the words to offer such reassurance had deserted her in the face of such a defeated expression.

‘So…’ Wynonna continued, clearing her throat. ‘We were shipped off to Gus and Curtis’ ranch, I went off the rails in a _big_ way, and ended up in and out of juvie over the next four years. Met some other shitheads there who ran with a rival gang, convinced myself it would be cool to ride with them. Ended up making the second biggest mistake of my life one night with them.’

As a tense silence stretched out between them, Nicole thought she could almost slot the pieces of the puzzle together; the bigger picture loomed large in her mind, teasing the edges of her perception. She opened her mouth to voice the question that burned in her throat, demanding to be asked, but was cut off by the movement of the double doors at the end of the corridor. Snapping her eyes up, she watched as Nedley walked towards them, his gaze sliding over to Wynonna.

‘About time,’ she muttered as she pushed herself to her feet.

Nedley’s moustache twitched but he didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Wynonna,’ he grunted. ‘Follow me.’

Rolling her eyes, the older Earp did as instructed, closing the door behind her and leaving Nicole to stare after them. When she had arrived at work that morning, never would she have anticipated Wynonna divulging the one part of their family history that even Waverly hadn’t felt able to confess to her. She supposed it was a sign of the growing trust Wynonna placed in her, in their developing friendship, a notion that was almost entirely responsible for the subtle smile that pulled at one corner of her mouth. It had certainly given her a lot to ponder, additional clues to squirrel away and return to at a later date. Perhaps, by that time, Nedley might even let her in on whatever scheme he was hatching with Wynonna right at that moment.

One day.

She could only hope.

***

Waverly sat on Nicole’s couch that night in almost complete darkness, CJ curled up next to her, slumbering peacefully. She hadn’t stayed over for the past five nights, feeling as though she owed her sister a little of her time given her extended absences recently. Yet tonight she _needed_ to see Nicole.

She had been clearing up after the last orders at _Shorty’s_ when she had felt her phone buzz in her pocket and had pulled up a message from her sister, the contents of which had sent her heart plummeting into her churning stomach. Locking up ten minutes earlier than she was meant to, Waverly had driven straight to Nicole's to await her return, navigating the darkened Purgatory roads as a bubble of nausea threatened to explode within her. Grateful for the spare key Nicole had entrusted her with (for those days when she wasn't working and could check in on CJ when Nicole was working late), she had bundled into the redhead's house and thrown herself onto the sofa, running through what she might say when the time came.

For whatever reason, Wynonna had decided to reveal the biggest secret the Earp family had endeavoured to guard so closely for the past fifteen years: the real reason for their father’s death and their sudden relocation to the McCready household. Wynonna had sent the text as both a warning and an apology, she realised as she scrolled through it for the fifth time.

Waverly had wanted to tell Nicole herself for a while now, but the time had never seemed right. At first, she had wanted to preserve Nicole’s unsullied image of her, worried what she might think if she discovered just how cursed their family name was. Now, though…

A sudden urge to calm her roiling nerves struck her and Waverly jumped up from the couch, disturbing CJ in the process, the cat turning her beady, reproachful eyes in her direction. She was halfway to the kitchen when she heard the scrape of the key in the door and Nicole wandered in; she blinked once, twice, registering the brunette’s unexpected presence.

‘Waves?’ she said, running her hand over the wall to flick the light switch. Waverly squeezed her eyes shut against the glare. ‘I thought you were staying at the homestead tonight?’

Waverly clasped her fingers together, clutching them to her chest, and inhaled a deep breath. ‘I…I needed to speak to you.’

Almost immediately, she could see the concern wash over Nicole; she took a few steps forwards, unclasping her holster and setting it down on the nearby counter, her eyes on Waverly the entire time.

‘Is anything wrong?’ she asked, moving closer to Waverly, her brow knit with obvious worry.

‘No, not really. I just…can we sit down?’

Nicole nodded and followed her over to the couch; her hands sought out Waverly’s as soon as they were settled, slender fingers curling around the brunette’s, clasping them tightly.

‘So…Wynonna told me she spoke to you tonight,’ Waverly began, her eyes trained on their intertwined fingers.

‘Yes.’

‘And she told you about what happened the night we left the homestead.’

A brief pause, enough for Waverly to dart her eyes up to glance at Nicole’s solemn expression.

‘Yes.’

Waverly nodded. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just…I didn’t want your impression of me to be tangled up with my family’s sordid past.’ She exhaled a shaky sigh. ‘You were the one person in town who didn’t know anything about the Earp name, about our history, and I wanted to hold onto that for as long as possible.’

She felt the insistent pressure of Nicole’s fingertips as she pressed them into Waverly’s hand. ‘Waves, I don’t care about any of that.’ She bent her head, waiting for Waverly to meet her gaze again. ‘I’m the last person who would judge anyone for the actions of their parents given my own past. And besides,’ she continued, raising her free hand to brush Waverly’s cheek, ‘you’re so much more than that. I meant what I said yesterday: you are _extraordinary_ , screwed up family legacy or not.’

A breathy chuckle passed Waverly’s lips. ‘It took years to finally feel somewhat accepted in this town,’ she admitted with a shake of her head. ‘I worked so hard to make people like me, to make them see past the name and the baggage. And here you are, just…’

She swallowed against the long-ago memories that surfaced in her mind’s eye, the wary looks, the not-so-subtle whispers that had followed her all through elementary school and into junior school. The cursed Earp girl with a dead father, one sister missing and the other broken beyond repair.

Years later and they still stung.

‘Waverly,’ Nicole murmured, placing her finger beneath the brunette’s chin and gently twisting her head so that Waverly was forced to look her in the eye. ‘None of that matters. I told you before, I’m not going to run away screaming because of anything you tell me. I’m not going _anywhere_.’ She cupped Waverly’s cheek, her hand cool against the brunette's warm skin, and smiled. ‘As long as you want me, I’ll be by your side. Through thick and thin, family baggage and all.’

The effect of those words upon Waverly was more intense than she could ever have imagined. Her heart leapt into her throat, settling there and beating an almost painful rhythm as Nicole held her gaze, the redhead’s eyes shining with the conviction with which she had infused her words, too. A rush of deep, almost burning affection for the woman beside her coursed through Waverly, along with the realisation that she had _never_ felt this way about anyone before. That this was something special. Something to be treasured.

 _Loved_.

Waverly felt it then: the moment had arrived at long last. It hung in the air between them, waiting to be seized.

And seize it Waverly did.

Raising her hands to Nicole’s face, she lifted herself up so that her lips barely grazed the other woman’s, allowing the anticipation and the desire to build and crackle between them. Nicole’s hot breath tickled her lips, the scent of her last cup of herbal tea lacing each one. Waverly pressed her smile to Nicole’s mouth, peppering the corners with chaste pecks as Nicole’s hands gripped her hips and pulled her closer. Their bodies now flush against one another’s, the kiss deepened almost immediately; Waverly sighed and sunk into it, allowing Nicole to bear her weight, bracing herself against the back of the sofa.

It didn’t take long for Waverly’s hands to wander down the length of Nicole’s torso, finding the buttons of her PSD shirt and grappling with the buttons. It was only once she had managed to unhook half of them, exposing Nicole’s lacy turquoise bra beneath, that the redhead appeared to understand what was happening. She reached up to cover Waverly’s hands with her own, stilling their progress. For a split second, Waverly almost panicked, wondering whether she had misread _that_ look that had resided in Nicole’s gaze for so long.

‘Waves, wait,’ Nicole breathed, seeking out Waverly’s eyes and holding them with her own. ‘Are you sure?’ Almost involuntarily, a grin spread across Waverly’s face as she gave a quick nod. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ she whispered, watching as a dimpled smile split Nicole’s face in return.

Not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer, she eased herself off the couch and stood up, tugging Nicole’s hand to drag her up, too. Heart fluttering inside her chest, Waverly pulled her towards the stairs, knowing already that tonight would be one she would savour for a long time to come.


	33. The Next Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which neither woman can quite forget about the events of the night before...

Waverly awoke early the next morning, limbs aching and a soft smile already in place. She stretched her arms out as gently as possible, trying not to disturb the still-sleeping redhead whose arm was draped across Waverly’s naked waist. The cocoon of contentment that enveloped her was one that she couldn’t remember ever having experienced before; it was as though none of the past traumas, none of the present grief, and none of the future worries could pierce the relaxed bubble in which she now dwelt. Everything else seemed somehow…insignificant. At least for now.

Listening to the sound of Nicole’s rhythmic breathing, Waverly began to trail her fingertips idly over the redhead’s arm –

_Nicole reached around her back, drawing her close as they tumbled onto the bed._

– grazing her slender fingers –

_She arched her body into Nicole’s eager hand as it slid down her torso, over her thigh, underneath her skirt._

– circling the perfectly-manicured nails.

_She gasped at the bite of the redhead’s fingernails as they gripped her bare hips, steadying her restless movements._

Rolling over, Waverly peered at her girlfriend’s face, softened by and radiant under the gentle warmth of the sun’s dawn rays. Her eyes raked over the tiny mole upon her cheekbone, down to her nose –

_Nicole bent down, nuzzling into the soft skin of Waverly’s neck._

– over her blush-pink lips –

_Her lips sought out the brunette’s pulse as it thrummed a frantic beat, nipping it tenderly before pressing a hot kiss over the same spot._

– down past her collarbone –

_Waverly could feel Nicole’s heart trembling beneath her ribcage, her hand flat against the redhead’s flushed chest as she leaned over her, the ends of her loose brown hair teasing the glistening skin._

– before drifting back up to her eyes. Eyes that were now open. Watching her.

_The smouldering, darkened brown gaze was fixed on hers as deft fingers brought her to the edge, closer than she had been in a long time._

Waverly couldn’t stop the indulgent smile that split her face. ‘Morning,’ she whispered, running a hand up Nicole’s bare arm, relishing the trail of goosebumps that it elicited in its wake.

‘Morning,’ Nicole murmured, returning a lazy grin. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Mmm,’ Waverly hummed. ‘Better than I have in a long time.’

‘Me too.’

The telltale twinkle in Nicole’s eyes told Waverly one thing: she, too, was recalling the memories of the night before. Waverly was sure they were seared into the very ridges and grooves that sculpted her brain. She could feel the tempo of her heartrate escalate at the mere thought of them…

‘I’ve gotta get up,’ Nicole groaned, making absolutely no move to do so.

Waverly clutched her wrist and pinned it to the bed. ‘No,’ she whined. ‘Just a little while longer.’

Shuffling closer to Nicole, she tucked herself against her warm body, head nestling on her shoulder as Nicole shifted to wrap her arm around Waverly. They lay like that for a while – perhaps only minutes, although Waverly paid no attention to time for once – soaking in the comfortable silence, Waverly tracing light patterns on Nicole’s stomach with her fingertips whilst Nicole did the same up and down Waverly’s arm. Once again, that sensation of utter peace crept upon the brunette, her mind blissfully free of any thoughts beyond the sharp focus on the subtle shivers that Nicole’s fingers provoked. Right then, she wanted nothing more than to curl up into that feeling, to live within the sanctuary they had woven around themselves.

But, as with all such dreams, it had to come to an untimely end.

This time when Nicole reiterated her need to get out of the bed, she followed through with the action – albeit reluctantly. Waverly felt the change in temperature immediately, her naked body erupting into goosebumps under the violent shudder that the cool air produced. With a sigh, she followed Nicole’s lead and rolled out of the bed, taking the PSD training shirt that Nicole offered her with sly smirk. Waverly pulled it over her head, the scent of freshly-washed laundry overwhelming her senses; she inhaled and looked down, noticing that the hem of the t-shirt only _just_ covered her modesty. Raising an inquiring eyebrow at Nicole, who had grabbed a fresh uniform from her wardrobe, she doubted whether it wasn’t entirely a deliberate choice.

‘I often wondered what you would look like wearing that,’ Nicole confessed, her eyes unashamedly roaming the length of her girlfriend’s body. 

‘Oh?’

‘Looks better on you, for sure,’ the redhead grinned, flashing her a quick wink before moving to the bathroom.

Waverly decided to head downstairs to check on CJ; the feline hadn’t been all that pleased to be shut out of the bedroom the night before if the occasional frustrated mewls from the other side of the door were any indication, and Waverly wondered idly whether she might be sulking downstairs as she awaited her breakfast.

Sure enough, upon entering the living room, Waverly spotted the cat in question: tucked into herself on the couch, CJ refused to even look up as the brunette approached. Waverly couldn’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of it all; how very like a human the ginger ball of fluff was. Still, she knew one thing that would chip away at the icy façade…

‘I bet you won’t be able to resist this delicious, expensive new food that Nicole bought you,’ she cooed, padding into the kitchen and opening the cupboard to pull out said item. She began to scoop it into a clean bowl, wrinkling her nose as the stench of fish pervaded the room. CJ was at her feet before she had even managed to put it on the ground. ‘You’re too predictable,’ she laughed.

She was busying herself making Nicole a cup of herbal tea and thinking about whether she might buy the redhead a new coffee machine as a gift when the woman herself crept up behind her and pressed herself against Waverly’s back, arms hugging her torso.

‘Jesus, Nicole,’ Waverly murmured as she started, spilling some of the boiling water onto the counter. ‘Warn a girl next time, please.’

‘Well, you still haven’t got me that bell you wanted me to wear,’ Nicole whispered into her ear, her breath hot against Waverly’s still-cool skin.

Whether it was the thrill of Nicole’s low words in her ear or the way her fingers pressed insistently into her abdomen, Waverly wasn’t sure – whatever the reason, she felt her body warm up almost immediately, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned her head back against Nicole’s chest and sighed.

Before she could act upon these new sensations, however, Nicole had reached around her and plucked a fresh pastry from the packet on the counter. As Waverly shifted, twisting around to look at her, Nicole picked up the to-go mug with her other free hand. And, god help her, Waverly couldn’t stop the petulant pout that pulled at her lips when she realised that the redhead was finally ready to leave for work.

Leaning closer, Nicole planted a kiss on Waverly’s forehead. ‘See you later?’

‘Mm,’ Waverly wordlessly agreed. ‘You just try to keep me away after last night.’

It was with that image in mind that Nicole departed, a giddy grin plastered on her face just as Waverly had intended.

***

With no fresh clothes to change into, Waverly eventually decided to return to the homestead. It was her day off – which she would have been pleased about if only Nicole’s had matched up. _We should be so lucky,_ she thought ruefully. Still, she refused to be even mildly irritated that morning, desperate to cling to the contentment with which she had awoken.

The drive home was rather pleasant, the gentle lilt of her easy-listening soundtrack filtering through her jeep’s old speakers as the early-morning sun dragged itself over the treetops and up into the clear sky. The wind that whipped her already-messy hair was crisp and cutting but, for once, Waverly found that she didn’t mind it. Nothing was going to dampen her spirits, of that she was certain.

That conviction lasted until she set foot through the front door and found Wynonna sitting at the kitchen table, still clad in her nightwear and sipping a drink; her eyes took in Waverly’s appearance within seconds, her eyebrow quirking as she smirked.

‘So, I take it you didn’t quite make it home last night,’ she said, entirely _not-innocently_.

‘I had to speak to Nicole after the bombshell that _you_ dropped on me,’ Waverly deflected as she moved to make herself a mug of coffee from the apparently freshly-brewed pot.

‘You sure that’s all you needed to _do_?’ her sister persisted, emphasising the last word to make her meaning all too clear. Waverly pursed her lips, her back to Wynonna as she poured her drink. ‘I mean, you’re wearing the same outfit as yesterday…’

‘I wasn’t exactly planning on going round her house after work,’ Waverly huffed. ‘So I had nothing with me.’

Just as she sat down in the adjacent chair, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Snatching it up, she swiped it open.

_[Nicole 8.06am]: Thanks to you, I can’t concentrate at work. Can it be tonight already? x_

The smile that spread across Waverly’s face was one that Wynonna would have (whilst gagging) labelled ‘dreamy’; it was the first time that Nicole had left a ‘kiss’ at the end of her message, and Waverly couldn’t help but feel that it was _that_ gesture, even more than the events of the previous night, that signalled the final shift in their relationship.

_[Waverly 8.07am]: Soon, baby. I can’t wait, either. xx_

‘Oh my god, you _did_ do it,’ Wynonna suddenly exclaimed.

Waverly snapped her eyes up to her sister, watching as her eyebrows crawled almost to her messy hairline. ‘What? Are you looking at my messages?’ she accused, tilting her phone towards her to protect it from further prying.

‘I don’t need to,’ Wynonna laughed. ‘That disgusting, dreamy smile on your face is enough. She _must_ be good if she’s got you mooning like a lovesick teenager.’

Rather than succumb to the monumental eyeroll she felt approaching, Waverly instead squared her shoulders and smirked. ‘Wouldn’t _you_ like to know.’

Her words elicited the desired effect: Wynonna pretended to retch and pulled a face, quickly standing up from her chair and shaking her head. ‘Nope, don’t want to go there. You’re still my baby sister.’

Depositing her empty mug in the sink, Wynonna scurried up the stairs, leaving Waverly to revel in her tiny victory alone and counting down the hours until she could see Nicole again.

***

True to her text, Nicole found herself incredibly distracted for large parts of the day. Able to file reports half-asleep by this point, she found her mind wandering rather often, drifting back to the unexpected events of the previous night. When she had stepped foot through her door after a long day at work, little had she expected to find Waverly standing there before her. Her first instinct was to be concerned, especially given the subdued expression that had blanched the brunette’s usually-cheerful face. But one heartfelt conversation later had solved all of that…

Nicole sucked in a deep breath and willed the memories to fade, knowing it would not be entirely appropriate to relive them in her current situation. Burying her head in the stack of paperwork that still cluttered her inbox, she forced herself to think of mundane things instead: her epic battle with Macavity; the feuding neighbours and their ridiculous sprinklers; the near-weekly drunken quarrels at _Shorty’s_...

The latter, predictably, inevitably led her mind down a different path, one that ended with the establishment’s celebrated barmaid in a branded crop-top and too-tight jean shorts, leather cowboy boots and oversized Stetson, a coy smirk and impish gaze completing the look.

Swallowing the nearly-audible groan that threatened to escape, Nicole snuck a peek at her phone, glancing up at Nedley’s office to make sure he was otherwise occupied.

It was as she was grinning down at Waverly’s reply for the third time that day that she suddenly became aware of a new presence in the room.

‘God, not you, too,’ Wynonna muttered. ‘It’s bad enough I had to endure Waves’ googly eyes before I’d even managed to shower this morning. You two need to do a better job at hiding your happiness around us poor singletons.’

‘Hi, Wynonna,’ Nicole smiled, voice cheery in spite of the usual teasing from the older Earp sister. ‘Here for Nedley again?’

‘You think I’d step foot in here otherwise?’ Wynonna scoffed. ‘Seen the inside of this place enough down the years to last me a lifetime.’

‘And yet here you are once again,’ came a gruff reply from behind Nicole.

Both women looked around to find Nedley standing in the doorway of his office, a worn, almost ill-tempered expression on his weary face. Nicole couldn’t help but notice the hint of dark circles puckering the underside of his eyes, the slightly unkempt nature of his usually-pristine moustache. It all spoke of a sleepless night or five…

‘Anything for my favourite Sheriff,’ Wynonna snorted. ‘Shall we?’

Nedley nodded and stood aside to let her into his office, his eyes darting down to Nicole before he closed the door behind him. It was oddly reminiscent of the previous night, their enigmatic discussions hidden from her inquisitive ears.

And in spite of the fact that she knew she was still relatively new to the town, that this was clearly a private matter between the two that had nothing to do with her, Nicole felt the indignation burn within her, the resentment festering in her veins. Once again, she was left out, made to watch from the sidelines, the truth concealed from the outsider just as she was starting to feel accepted by the quaint town.

Perhaps she had simply deluded herself into believing that she could ever _really_ become part of the fabric of Purgatory, that she could ingratiate herself into a place that seemed built upon a foundation of secrets and decades-old suspicion of anyone different.

With a sigh, Nicole forced herself to focus on the work at hand once more and the comforting knowledge that there were at least two people in her life who cared for her regardless of anything else that was going on.

The rest of Purgatory could damn itself all the way to Hell, as far as she was concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief look at all three of our favourite relationships here!
> 
> As always, bless you all for continuing to read and stay tuned for more later in the week... :)


	34. The Necessary Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly and Nicole discuss some of their fears and doubts with one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather short chapter again (it's funny how it seems so much longer when writing in Word...); I wanted to get *something* up to tide you all over whilst I mull over how to structure the next few.
> 
> Hopefully it will do its job!

In an effort to alleviate her bad mood, Nicole decided on a whim to buy the ingredients for a new vegan recipe she had been dying to cook for Waverly. Given the certainty of the brunette’s visit that evening, she figured now was as good a time as any.

Her arms laden with groceries when she finally arrived home, she quickly set about searching for the instructions online and chopping up the vegetables. Waverly had messaged her just as she had slid into her car at the store, so she knew she didn’t have long, and she wanted it to be cooking by the time her girlfriend knocked on the door. Thus, streaming some music from her phone to her speaker, she bopped her head along to the lively beat as she busied herself with her task, with the vague notion that she was glad Waverly wasn’t there to witness further evidence of her chronic lack of rhythm.

Prompt as usual, Waverly’s distinctive knock drew Nicole out of the kitchen just as she had finished scrubbing the chopping board and had rested it on the drainer; she opened the door, accepting the quick, welcoming kiss Waverly offered as she strode into the warmth of the house.

‘Ooh, something smells good,’ Waverly said as she inhaled appreciatively. ‘What did you order?’

‘Nothing. I cooked – for once,’ Nicole explained with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘It was my turn, after all.’

The excited smile that broke out on Waverly’s face reminded Nicole of a child receiving the birthday gift of which they had secretly been dreaming; suddenly, the simple recipe didn’t seem quite good enough…

‘It’s nothing special,’ she murmured. ‘I just saw it and thought it would be nice to have something other than takeout for a change.’

The reproachful look Waverly shot her was enough to make Nicole swallow. ‘Now who’s running herself down?’ she chided, running one hand up Nicole’s arm. ‘If it tastes half as good as it smells, it’s going to be amazing.’

As Waverly had no doubt intended, Nicole recognised her own hypocrisy immediately. Accepting it without argument, she moved back into the kitchen to check on the food whilst Waverly settled on the couch next to CJ, Nicole glancing over occasionally to smile at the way the brunette lavished attention on the feline and spoke to her as though she could, somehow, understand. It was just another trait that Nicole adored about her: the empathy that extended to all living things, be they human or animal. Nobody was perfect, of course, but Nicole thought that, of all seven billion-odd people on the planet, Waverly came pretty damn close.

After twenty-five more minutes and a glass of wine each, the meal was finally ready to serve. Nicole ladled some rice into two bowls before pouring the vegetable curry over the top, topping it off with a smidgen of salt, black pepper, and two leaves of cilantro to garnish. She placed one bowl in front of Waverly, who ogled it gleefully.

‘A vegan curry?’ she asked as she picked up her spoon.

‘Yep. It originates from the Cayman Islands, so has some spice in it.’

As she swallowed her first bite, Waverly hummed her approval. ‘Oh, it’s _so_ good.’

Nicole grinned. ‘Glad you like it. I’ve been meaning to make it for a while, but…well, you know. Work and all.’

Waverly reached out with her free hand to grasp Nicole’s. ‘It sounds like it’s been rough lately. Wynonna’s told me about some of it, but not much.’

‘She has?’ Nicole asked, eyes snapping up to the brunette’s.

‘Mmhm.’ Waverly swallowed her mouthful of food. ‘Nothing specific, though. I get the impression Nedley wants to keep it all hush-hush for now.’

The scoff left Nicole’s throat before she could suppress it; she noticed her mistake as soon as she saw Waverly’s brow furrow and she lowered her spoon.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked quietly.

Sighing, Nicole let her own spoon fall to the bowl. She hesitated, weighing up whether she should admit the truth or try to pass off her growing frustration with a deflection. Knowing Waverly, she would see right through it…

‘I just…I know Nedley and Wynonna are discussing what happened at the bar the other week, looking into the Revenants, and I don’t – I don’t like being left out of it all.’

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she groaned. How childish it all sounded when voiced aloud. Having this conversation was not exactly the way she had imagined the night transpiring with Waverly, and yet it was out there now. _No turning back._

Waverly took her time before replying, seeming to dissect Nicole’s admission carefully, considering how best to approach it. ‘You want to be involved with the investigation?’ Nicole nodded as she forced herself to swallow a spoonful of the curry, the rice almost sticking in her suddenly dry throat. ‘Perhaps Nedley is just being cautious because of…what happened.’

The momentary hesitation was brief, but it was there; Nicole looked up in time to see the aggrieved expression flicker across Waverly’s features.

‘Perhaps. But I feel like…like he could at least tell me what’s going on. What if something happens and I have no idea? I’m his only full-time deputy. I should be read in on the big cases.’

She watched as Waverly sighed and took a sip of her drink. Ten (awkward, if Nicole was honest) minutes slipped by as they both continued to eat. The clinking of cutlery against crockery and the steady drip of the tap were the only sounds that disturbed the tense hush that lingered between them. It was the first time such an uneasy silence had fallen since their first lengthy conversation two months ago: a new milestone in their relationship. And just how did they deal with it…?

It wasn’t until Nicole wordlessly picked up their bowls and put them to soak in the sink that it was finally broken.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Waverly began, voice soft, arms wrapped around her chest as she stared at the counter next to Nicole, ‘I’m glad you’re not involved in the investigation.’ Nicole turned around to look at her as she wiped her wet hands on the kitchen towel. ‘I mean, you’re still healing. You won’t be _completely_ recovered for a while and…’ She paused. Another sigh, this one deep and suffused with audible pain. ‘And I feel better knowing you won’t be in harm’s way again.’

She finally returned her eyes to Nicole’s and the redhead was surprised to find them shining with unshed tears. Her chest tightened, constricting with the realisation that she hadn’t even considered the impact of her injury upon Waverly. That she hadn’t stopped to think about the trauma that _she_ had endured, waiting to find out whether Nicole would even survive the surgery, suffering through the recovery period in her own quiet way.

How selfish she had been…

Without a word, Nicole closed the gap between them in two long strides and drew Waverly into a fierce embrace, squeezing her hard enough to remind her that she was _here_ and that she was _okay_ and that she wouldn’t be going anywhere ever again.

As much as she still longed to be involved in whatever it was Nedley and Wynonna were scheming – to feel less like an outsider and more an accepted part of Purgatory’s present struggles – she would gladly tuck her resentment away if it meant assuaging even a fraction of the hurt and worry that Waverly was battling.

‘How about we just relax on the sofa with a film and some popcorn for the rest of the night?’ Nicole suggested as she leaned back to peer at Waverly.

Waverly pulled her arms from around Nicole’s waist and ran them up her sides, settling them on her collarbone; Nicole could feel the warmth from her palms seeping through the thick fabric of her uniform.

The slow half-smile that curled Waverly’s lips made her intention clear even before she voiced it.

‘I had something more exciting in mind.’

***

They lay together some time later, heated bodies cooling in the night air beneath the soft rays of the moonlight that peeked through the gaps in Nicole’s bedroom blinds. Waverly allowed her eyes to flit over the redhead’s face, fingers threading through her loose auburn locks that she had unceremoniously tugged from their perfect French braid earlier that evening. Eyes closed, Nicole allowed herself to enjoy the brunette’s tender caresses, sighing occasionally when her nails gently scratched her scalp.

‘You should leave your hair down more often,’ Waverly murmured. ‘It’s beautiful like this.’

She watched as Nicole’s eyes fluttered open, reflecting the light of the moon as they often did at this angle. ‘Not practical for work,’ she explained. ‘I’m actually thinking of cutting it short. Takes too much time to sort in the mornings – time I would much rather spend with _you_ ,’ she added with a grin.

‘I was about to protest, but when you put it _that_ way…’

Waverly shuffled closer to press her lips to Nicole’s, her hand falling from her hair to cup her cheek instead. When she drew back, it was to find Nicole’s gaze had intensified, faint lines creasing her brow; Waverly reached up to brush her thumb over them as though to smooth them away.

‘What are you thinking?’ she whispered. ‘What’s bothering you?’

Nicole grasped her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm before lacing their fingers together. ‘What you said earlier. I never thought about what you might have been going through the past few weeks. How hard it was for you, too. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t apologise.’ They both smiled at the turnabout. ‘You've had enough to deal with without adding my feelings into it, too.’

This time it was Nicole that reached out, holding Waverly’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. ‘Waverly, you are the most important person in my life. I don’t want you to ever feel upset or worried because of something I’ve done. Your emotions are completely valid and I want you be comfortable enough to express them to me, even if you think it might hurt.’

‘Ditto,’ Waverly replied. ‘But, you know – it’s not realistic to expect that we won’t upset or worry each other from time to time, even accidentally. We just…have to deal with it when it happens. Be honest with one another.’

‘I can do that,’ Nicole smiled.

Waverly made to say more, but a violent shiver shook her entire body and made her teeth chatter; the pleasant warmth that had permeated every limb earlier had now completely dissipated, the chill in the room cutting into her naked flesh. Recognising this immediately, Nicole pulled the blanket further up the bed to cover their shoulders, and then wrapped her arm around Waverly’s torso. Unlike the brunette, Nicole still retained some of the heat from earlier; Waverly sunk into it as she snuggled against her and closed her eyes, ready for sleep to whisk her away into a blissful dream.

In spite of their candid conversation, Waverly knew it would not resolve Nicole’s apparently deep-seated yearning to be included, her fear of being forever an outcast. But it was, at the very least, a step in the right direction. All Waverly could do was to show her, every day and in every way possible, that she was _wanted_ and _cherished_.

The rest could come later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like some parts are a little flat in this chapter - I'm happy to admit I struggled with it, perhaps more so than some of the previous ones - but there...


	35. The Hidden Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole finally learns what Nedley is up to and deals with her own dilemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so much longer this time around! Only one more week of work to go and then I can get stuck back into it properly. :)

Another three days’ worth of resentment simmered beneath Nicole’s skin, watching Wynonna arrive and Nedley sequestering her in his office for hours at a time until she left with barely a word and a goodbye nod. Each time Nicole found it harder to fake the friendly smile she always offered; only Waverly’s words earlier in the week tempered the bitterness somewhat, knowing that she would inevitably suffer if Nicole were to become embroiled in something dangerous. She knew Nedley was likely only keeping her in the dark for her own safety, but it stung like rejection all over again – a feeling she knew all too well from childhood.

Nicole barely spared a glance as Nedley wandered out of his office later that morning; Wynonna slipped past him into the break room, their latest meeting clearly destined to stretch on for some time yet. Shuffling the latest set of completed reports, she stood up to hand them over to Nedley, who accepted them with a curt nod.

‘Nicole, wait,’ he said as she made to turn away again. Swallowing the sigh that tickled her lips, Nicole looked up expectantly, waiting for the next mundane task. ‘Come in here.’

Her brow flickered with the hint of surprise and confusion, but she did as instructed without a word. Nedley waited until Wynonna returned before shutting the door and gesturing for them both to take a seat. Darting her eyes over to Wynonna, Nicole found her expression oddly emotionless, inscrutable – the latter of which wasn’t exactly unusual, but it unnerved her nevertheless.

‘I know you’ve been wondering what’s been going on,’ Nedley began, addressing Nicole without any preamble.

‘Sir, I – ’ she tried, leaping to defend herself, to lie about her keen interest, but she was cut off almost immediately by Nedley’s raised hand.

‘No, let me finish,’ he grunted. Nicole nodded and pursed her lips together. ‘I may be old, but I ain’t stupid – and you’re perceptive enough to know something’s up. Hell, even Lonnie has been buggin’ me about it, and he ain’t the brightest spark.’ He huffed a laugh at his own joke but quickly regained his stoic composure when neither woman joined in. ‘Anyway, it’s about time you were read in.’

Nicole felt her heart skip an odd beat as his words sunk in; swallowing, she leaned forwards in her chair slightly, as though to hear him better. _Finally…_

‘Now, you know we’ve been after the Revenants for years but never got anythin’ on them.’ Another nod; Nicole knew _that_ much for sure. ‘Well, the guy Shorty shot in the bar – the one who attacked you’ – Nicole was almost shocked to see Nedley’s eye twitch – ‘was one of them. He had their insignia tattooed on his chest, and everyone heard him mention Bobo – their leader, Robert Svane.’

‘But…I still don’t understand _why_ he was there,’ Nicole said, leaning her elbows on her knees, her chin resting on her hands as she mentally sifted through everything she had read about the gang during those long nights slumped at her desk long after Nedley had left. ‘What did he want with you?’ she asked, turning her head towards Wynonna.

Nicole caught the quick glance Wynonna shot Nedley before she sighed. ‘Remember I told you about that rival gang I ran with?’ Again, Nicole nodded. ‘I was there the day all hell broke loose and they tried to massacre each other. Just a kid, but I was full of anger and had to vent it some way.’ She didn’t take her eyes off the older Earp, but Nicole heard Nedley shift in his seat, heard the grunt he attempted to swallow. ‘Barely got out of there without a bullet in me after I shot JJ – Bobo’s older brother, Joshua. Fucker had it coming after he took Willa,’ she spat.

Finally, the pieces fell into place. The big picture became clear and Nicole opened her mouth in a silent ‘oh’. For some reason, she had never thought to draw a link between ‘that night’ at the homestead and the incident Nedley had told her about weeks ago. Now she couldn’t understand how she hadn’t seen it sooner.

‘So…’ she began slowly, turning the ideas over in her mind to make sure she had painted the correct image. ‘Curtis’ horse, and Curtis himself – the Revenants killed them to get to you? For – what, revenge?’

‘To draw me out,’ Wynonna muttered, bitterness and anguish lacing each word. ‘They tried it the last time I was here, three years ago, but I left too quickly. This time, though…’

‘It’s about time you stopped runnin’ and faced your mistakes,’ Nedley grumbled, not harshly, but pointedly nevertheless.

‘Yeah, thanks, _dad_ ,’ Wynonna retorted. ‘Why do you _think_ I stayed? I knew it was only a matter of time before they turned on my family. No way in hell they’re getting to Waves.’

Nicole felt her heart lurch in her chest. Was Waverly _really_ in danger? Now she knew for sure that they were after Wynonna – hell bent on vengeance for their fallen leader years ago – it was only a matter of time before they realised that the most important person in Wynonna’s life was her baby sister…

Nicole’s stomach roiled and churned as she pictured Waverly lying in her bed that very morning, her mousy hair tinted golden by the dawn sun and looking like the living embodiment of angelic innocence as she slept. The earlier resentment was replaced with a fierce anger that burned hot enough to hurt. If they even dared…

‘They won’t,’ Nedley huffed. ‘We’ll move on them before that happens.’

Nicole snapped her gaze away from her own clenched fists and up to the Sheriff, registering his words more slowly than usual. ‘You’re actually doing something? Arresting them?’

Nedley’s moustache twitched with barely-disguised amusement. ‘You think I’d let this opportunity go to waste? We’ve got dozens o’ witnesses who can attest to hearing Bobo’s orders. More than enough for Cryderman to give me a warrant this time. It’s been fifteen years in the makin’…’

He broke off, his hard swallow visible in the way his Adam’s apple bobbed violently in his throat. Next to her, Nicole heard Wynonna cough and shift in her chair, almost as though the Sheriff’s attempt to repress his emotion perturbed her. Nicole had to admit, it wasn’t something she was used to seeing from the usually-stoic man; it didn’t unnerve her the way it seemed to Wynonna, but it was surprising, to say the least. Unlike the middle Earp, she hid it well.

‘When are you planning on going to the trailer park?’ Nicole asked, her voice sounding altogether too loud and confident in the uneasy silence.

‘Soon,’ Nedley replied. ‘As soon as Cryderman hands over the warrant.’ He fixed Nicole with a steady gaze. ‘I want you there, too.’

The smile lit up her face before she had even considered her response. That Nedley trusted her enough to join in the operation, trusted that she could overcome the ordeal in the bar and return strong enough to participate in something so important, trusted that she _needed_ to help bring those scumbags to justice after everything that had happened – it meant more than she could put into words.

‘Of course, sir,’ she said, the speed with which she responded betraying her eagerness, her joy.

Almost immediately, Waverly’s face rose before her, tears swimming in her eyes, words trembling in the air: _I feel better knowing you won’t be in harm’s way again_. Her relief upon knowing that Nicole _wasn’t_ involved in this plot to bring down the gang pricked the redhead’s mind, teased a shiver from her warm body. She couldn’t refuse Nedley’s instruction, though – couldn’t shirk her duties as an officer of the law…could she?

And even if she could, did she really want to?

Wasn’t this precisely _why_ she had always wanted to become a police officer in the first place? _To protect and serve._ Not herself, but everyone else.

‘Good.’ Nedley’s voice drew Nicole back to the Sheriff’s office and away from her troubling thoughts. ‘I’ll keep you both updated. In the meantime, just keep your head low,’ he added to Wynonna, ‘and try to stay out of trouble… for once.’

Wynonna smirked as she stood up. ‘You know me – can’t make any promises.’

A grunt was all the reply Nedley offered as Wynonna nodded at Nicole and left. Nicole, rather than follow her lead, frowned at her boss.

‘Is Wynonna going to be involved, too?’

‘Against my better judgement, yes,’ Nedley sighed. ‘But only as a consultant. She has experience with the gang from her time running with the Banditos. She knows Bobo and his ways, probably better than me.’

With that, he turned back to his computer; Nicole took that as her cue to leave, too, and did so with a quick nod. So many different thoughts and emotions were warring with each other that she didn’t know which to latch onto: excitement that she was finally involved; concern over Wynonna’s involvement as a civilian; relief that they were actually doing _something_ at last…

…fear over Waverly’s reaction when Nicole finally told her.

That last one stuck, digging in its heels as she tried to bat it away, to focus on the paperwork she still had to sort. But it wouldn’t leave. It needled her mind as she re-read the report on some minor vandalism in the local children’s park; it gnawed at her stomach as she drove home, forcing her to skip the dinner she had planned to eat as she suddenly had no appetite; it scratched at her conscience as she lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling as she thought about the quick conversation she had had with Waverly upon arriving home, reassuring her that her day had been uneventful, tedious even, and that – yes – she _would_ rest.

She hadn’t meant to lie – she really hadn’t.

Yet that conversation was one to have face-to-face, not through a late-night telephone call. That was what she reasoned, anyway.

Thus, she squeezed her eyes shut and vowed to deal with it in the morning.

***

If Nicole had thought the next day would start any better than the previous one had ended, she was soon proven wrong.

Not only did she oversleep after accidentally turning her alarm off instead of snoozing it for five minutes, but her tired hands could not work under such pressure as she attempted to work it into her usual immaculate braid. Cursing under her breath when she finally managed it (taking ten minutes longer than normal), she reminded herself that she really _should_ get it cut to avoid such problems in the future.

Already running behind, she eventually arrived at the diner later than their customary time to find Waverly sitting in their booth.

With Wynonna.

Nicole schooled her expression from one of surprise into a cheery smile as she slid into her usual seat opposite Waverly, Wynonna having opted to take the window seat next to her sister this time.

‘Hey,’ she said as she met Waverly’s warm gaze. ‘Sorry. I overslept.’

‘How come?’ Waverly asked as she sipped her drink. ‘I thought you went to sleep as soon as we had finished talking?’

Nicole was spared the necessity of answering immediately as Hetty bustled over to offer her habitual cappuccino and pastry breakfast. Thanking the waitress, she took a quick bite in order to give herself longer to mull over her answer. _Choose carefully…_

‘I did, but I didn’t sleep all that well.’

Okay, that wasn’t exactly the _best_ answer – it invited further questions for one – but it was innocuous enough to hopefully allay any suspicion.

Or so Nicole hoped.

Waverly leaned across the table ever so slightly, squinting her eyes in concern. ‘Is everything okay?’

_Of course she’s worried,_ Nicole thought, wanting nothing more than to re-do her initial answer in order to avoid this very situation. She glanced up at Wynonna, who was too busy scrolling through her phone to pay much attention to the conversation, it seemed. With her here, Nicole couldn’t lie – and besides, she didn’t want to, anyway. Not again. Not after she had promised Waverly honesty. But admitting her involvement in the case so soon after the brunette had confided in her, had divulged her fears over Nicole coming to more harm…she needed to consider how to approach that, and the middle of the diner mere days after their heart-to-heart didn’t exactly seem like the right place.

‘Of course,’ she smiled. ‘Just a lot to take in, being back at work after so long off. After what happened, you know…’

It was as Waverly was nodding her understanding, her own smile reflecting her sympathy for Nicole’s situation, that Nicole noticed Wynonna put her phone away and turn towards them both.

‘I’m not surprised what with everything that’s going on,’ she chipped in. ‘It’s going to be a tough few weeks, for sure.’

Nicole thought she felt the moment her heart sunk into her empty stomach only to be corroded and dissolved by the bitter acid that roiled inside; its descent began the moment the words left Wynonna’s mouth and completed its journey the instant Waverly’s brow furrowed and she looked between the other two women for clarification.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, eyes darting back and forth. ‘What’s going on?’

Seeming to realise her mistake, Wynonna focused on Nicole; the redhead’s face must have betrayed her distress, for she attempted to offer an apologetic twitch of her mouth.

‘I thought you would have told her…’ she muttered. ‘You talk all the time, so…’

‘Tell me _what_?’ Waverly insisted, her irritation cutting through the tension.

Heaving a sigh, Nicole rubbed her temple and met her girlfriend’s narrowed gaze. She really should have drunk her coffee before trying to have this conversation so early in the morning after a sleepless night…

‘Nedley has…come up with a plan to arrest Bobo,’ she said quietly, looking around to check that she wasn’t going to be overheard.

‘Okay,’ Waverly replied blankly, her confusion all too plain as she waited for Nicole to continue.

‘And he needs as much backup as possible – just in case.’

She could almost see the cogs turning in Waverly’s mind as she processed each new piece of information, her eyes widening as she realised the implications of Nicole’s words.

‘So…you’re going to walk into a trailer park full of armed gang members – _known_ murderers – with just the two of you?’

Nicole almost winced at the anxiety that simmered beneath Waverly’s words, at the way she tucked her hands into her lap to hide them from view. She couldn’t help the quick glance up at Wynonna as she considered the question.

Unfortunately, Waverly caught it. ‘ _Both_ of you?’

If they had been alone, Nicole was sure Wynonna would have let loose a verbal tirade at being dragged into trouble, too; as it was, she had to content herself with gritting her teeth.

‘Nedley needs my experience,’ Wynonna explained. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid.’

Her efforts to diffuse the increased tension with humour failed spectacularly; if anything, it only served to anger Waverly, who scoffed and fixed each woman with a steely glare.

‘And you thought you would, what – _keep_ this from me?’ Nicole tried to open her mouth to explain, but was cut off almost immediately. ‘I _asked_ you how your day went yesterday, whether everything was okay – and you _lied_ to me? After – after what we talked about the other night? After what we _promised_?’

‘Waves – ’

‘No, Nicole – I don’t want to hear it.’ Snatching up her bag, she leapt to her feet and stepped out of the booth. When Wynonna made to do the same, she turned her ire upon her sister, too. ‘Don’t follow me,’ she snapped. ‘I’m angry with the both of you for hiding this.’

And with that, she stormed out of the diner, the bell jangling madly and the door slamming behind her as both Wynonna and Nicole stared at her retreating figure. Burying her head in her hands, Nicole groaned her frustration loudly enough to earn a sympathetic look from Hetty behind the counter.

One mistake – one _stupid_ mistake – was all it had taken to hurl them into their first real fight. If she had only been open with Waverly from the start…

Nicole had been so afraid of worrying her, of teasing out her new fear of Nicole getting injured again (or worse), that she had completely neglected to consider the alternative: confronting a hurt, angry, disappointed Waverly when she inevitably found out she had been lied to – by one of the few people she trusted enough not to, no less.

‘I’m an idiot,’ she muttered into her hands.

‘You’ll get no argument from me,’ Wynonna offered, lounging back into her seat as she finished off her pancakes. ‘If there’s one sure-fire way to piss her off, it’s not telling her the truth.’

‘ _You_ didn’t tell her, either,’ Nicole countered, bristling at the accusation in spite of its veracity.

‘I’m not the one who almost died recently,’ Wynonna replied, her voice soft, almost…sad. ‘Besides, she expects me to fuck up. It’s kind of my thing.’

Nicole breathed a sigh as she rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. She needed to fix this, but she was also due in work soon, which meant leaving Waverly to stew in her pain and fury for the remainder of the day…

‘Look, go be a cop and give her some space,’ Wynonna said suddenly, almost as though she could read Nicole’s thoughts. ‘She forgives a lot. Always has done. She’ll forgive this, too.’

With a resigned nod, Nicole stood to leave, abandoning her barely-touched breakfast with the knowledge that she would likely throw it up if she tried to force it down now.

All she could do now was hope that Wynonna’s Earp-sister experience proved correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a lot of dialogue to push the plot forwards in this one. The next narrative arc is underway now, so let's see where it goes!


	36. The Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly deals with the realisation that Nicole has lied to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, what an end to the school year! It has been ridiculously busy here, hence the delay in posting. Again, this is a little something to tide you all over in the meantime.
> 
> To those still following this - thank you all. You are the real MVPs here. :)

Unfortunately for Nicole, she was accurate in her fear that Waverly would wallow in her indignation after storming out of the diner that morning. She replayed each of their conversations over the past few days, picking apart every one of Nicole’s answers to see whether there was anything else she had concealed, whether there were yet more secrets she had decided not to reveal. Every smile, every act of reassurance was examined under a new light, scrutinised for further evidence that Waverly could use to fuel her burning rage.

It was the hypocrisy that irritated her the most. For Nicole to resent Nedley for shutting her out, for withholding information from her that she longed to hear, only to do the very same thing to Waverly…

After _everything_ they had spoken about the other night, Nicole had done the _one_ thing that Waverly never thought possible. The realisation that yet another person in her life – another person she had come to care for so deeply – could so easily discard the truth, could hurt her in the one way that was sure to dredge up all of her past doubts…

It pained her more than she cared to admit.

Perhaps wisely, Shorty chose not to comment upon the obvious change in Waverly’s mood when she stalked through the double doors of the bar later that same day. Even the punters, who would usually use any excuse to talk to her, to provoke one of her customary smiles, to elicit a cheery laugh, returned to their tables without so much as an attempt at small talk. Kyle York opened his mouth to question her, but was soon sent scurrying at the look in Waverly’s eye that seemed to promise swift retribution upon anyone foolish enough to do so.

This constant squall of emotions soon took their toll, however, and Waverly returned home feeling altogether lethargic, exhausted from the day’s events and revelations. Her desire to go straight to bed and sleep away her mood only increased when she walked through the door to find Wynonna sitting at the kitchen table, apparently awaiting her arrival. Sighing, Waverly tried to sneak straight up the stairs, but was stopped when Wynonna called out her name.

‘What?’ she retorted, knowing full-well she sounded like a petulant child but not caring one jot.

‘Can we please just talk?’ Wynonna asked as Waverly stood in the doorway, clearly hesitant. ‘I know you’re pissed – ’

‘I wonder why,’ Waverly bit out. ‘I didn’t exactly wake up this morning thinking that the two people I care about most in the world would lie to me about something so important.’

‘Fair enough,’ her sister conceded, holding up her hands in supplication for added emphasis. ‘But you’ve got to understand that this was only discussed late yesterday evening. We’ve barely had time to process it.’

‘I spoke to you last night – I spoke to you _both_ – and neither of you thought to mention what might be happening? Neither of you thought I might need to know that you’re both going to be thrown into yet _more_ danger?’

‘I was going to tell you when it was finalised,’ Wynonna said, her voice even, refusing to be cowed by Waverly’s frosty responses. ‘When we knew what was happening for sure. But Haught – she didn’t even realise she was going to be involved until last night. It’s a lot to take in and she needs time to think it all through given what happened to her.’

Waverly stood, arms folded tightly across her chest, fingernails digging into her own flesh, and blinked. To hear Wynonna defending Nicole instead of launching into ‘big sister’ mode and siding with her was…unexpected, to say the least.

‘She could have at least told me,’ she said, voice quieter now, its edge filed down by Wynonna’s obvious concern for Nicole. ‘To _lie_ to me…’

‘I’m not saying what she did was right,’ Wynonna pointed out. ‘It was stupid, but we all make mistakes. Hell, I’m living proof of that. And besides,’ she added, raising an eyebrow at her sister, ‘would _you_ have wanted to have that conversation so late at night over the phone?’

Waverly was spared the awkwardness of answering by the sudden knock at the door. Frowning, she glanced at Wynonna, who simply shrugged. She had half a mind to fetch her shotgun from under the stairs (just in case, she reasoned) before a soft voice called out.

‘Waverly?’

Her heart jumped in her chest when she recognised it as Nicole.

Nicole, who should – by rights – be home and in bed by now.

Her girlfriend, with whom was still mad and didn’t particularly want to see right then.

‘Give her a chance,’ Wynonna murmured. ‘She deserves that much.’

Sighing, Waverly turned on her heel and marched over to the front door, pulling it open to reveal Nicole still in her work uniform, fiddling with her Stetson as she clutched it in her hands and gazing down at Waverly with eyes that could only be described as sorrowful.

‘I thought you’d be home by now,’ Waverly said, voice sharp once more.

Nicole shook her head. ‘I’ve been driving around since finishing work, waiting for you to return.’ She swallowed visibly and glanced over Waverly’s shoulder. ‘Can I…come in?’

It was on the tip of Waverly’s tongue to refuse, to tell Nicole to simply leave her alone, but she relented – if only to wipe that awful look of utter remorse from her face. She stepped aside, allowing Nicole to slip into the house, and closed the door behind her. Her darted look into the kitchen as she led Nicole into the living room revealed it to be suspiciously empty.

Waverly didn’t miss the way that Nicole settled herself further along the couch, leaving a respectable distance between them as she fixed Waverly with a steadfast gaze.

‘Waves, I’m sorry,’ she began, speaking quickly as though afraid Waverly would cut her off. ‘I should have told you what Nedley was planning. We promised each other honesty and I…I didn’t give you that.’

Nicole’s hand moved, as though longing to reach out to take Waverly’s, but she tucked it between her legs instead, cutting dead the impulse. Waverly might have smiled if it wasn’t for the resentment that still bubbled beneath the surface, tainting her words and manipulating her expression.

‘I didn’t ask for a lot, Nicole,’ she said. ‘Just the truth so that we could get through all of this together.’

‘I know,’ Nicole replied. ‘There’s no excuse for what I did. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just – I wanted to talk to you about it face-to-face, not over the phone. I was going to come round after work today and explain it all, but…’

She trailed off, not needing to complete the unfinished sentence. Waverly was struck once again by her sister’s prescience; quite _when_ Wynonna had become so perceptive and thoughtful, she wasn’t sure. It was refreshing and unnerving all at once.

‘I know it worries you, me being involved,’ Nicole continued, voice noticeably softer now. ‘But…I can’t _not_ do my job, especially when something like this comes up. If I hid every time it might be a little dangerous, I’d never leave the station.’

Waverly breathed out a long sigh. She knew, logically, that Nicole was absolutely right, that she was being unreasonable to be quite so upset about Nicole fulfilling her duty as an officer of the law – and one that was completely necessary and admirable. Yet she reasoned that that was _not_ why she was angry.

It was this she clung to as she folded her arms across her chest and huffed.

‘I don’t expect you to do that,’ she said, almost defensively. ‘That worries me after what happened, but that’s _not_ why I’m annoyed.’

‘I know,’ Nicole repeated, inching along the couch. She put her hand out, resting it in the space between them, as though giving Waverly the option to take it herself. ‘If you want to know anything, just ask. If I can answer, I will.’

Hesitating, Waverly stared at Nicole’s hand, still waiting patiently to be grasped. She raked her eyes over the slightly chipped fingernails, the ink stain that painted the inside of Nicole’s middle finger, the light-blue veins that snaked up to her wrist and disappeared beneath the cuff of her dark shirt.

‘When is it happening?’ she asked finally, noticing the way Nicole’s fingers twitched against the cushion of the sofa.

‘I’m not sure yet. As soon as the warrant comes through from Judge Cryderman, Nedley says. But I’ve heard he can be…a bit difficult.’

Waverly smiled as she reached out to run her finger across the knuckles of Nicole’s hand, tracing the black blotch of ink as she imagined the redhead scribbling away at her desk, tongue caught between her teeth in the way that signified that she was _really_ concentrating on her work.

‘That’s an understatement,’ she murmured. ‘Nedley has had a lot of trouble with him over the years, if his mutterings in the bar are anything to go by.’

Nicole turned her hand over so that it was palm-upwards, watching as Waverly continued to trail her finger over the lines that were etched into her skin. She had never been one for palm readings (a vague interest in astrology and horoscopes was as far as she stretched her beliefs), but she found herself wondering what the grooves and furrows would reveal about her life. Was she destined to have a deep and meaningful relationship that spanned years? Would she live a long and fulfilling life without heartache and pain?

That last thought embedded in her mind like a splinter and she threaded her fingers through Nicole’s, clutching her hand tightly as she finally lifted her gaze once more. Nicole was already looking at her, eyes fixed on Waverly’s as she seemed to wait for a sign that she might be forgiven.

‘Let me know as soon as you find out,’ she said finally.

‘Of course,’ Nicole replied. ‘I won’t keep anything back, I promise.’

Waverly squinted up at her, the word niggling, drawing her eyebrows together into a deep frown; too many people had promised her things in the past and had let her down all too often. It wasn’t something she accepted lightly.

Apparently Nicole sensed her misgivings, for she reached out with her free hand, tucked a loose curl of hair behind Waverly’s ear and leaned closer to her. ‘I promise,’ she repeated.

‘Even if you think it’ll hurt?’

‘Even if I think it’ll hurt.’

‘Okay,’ Waverly smiled, shuffling the last few inches along the sofa so that she could curl into Nicole’s embrace.

It hadn’t even lasted a day, but she felt the relief sink into her bones upon realising that they had successfully navigated their first real fight. It was a new milestone – an unwanted one and likely the first of many such arguments, of course, but a milestone nevertheless. Something they could use to bolster their relationship and use to adjust the dynamics of it where necessary. Something from which they could grow.

They stayed like that, wrapped in a comfortable silence and each other’s arms, until the creak of the stairs announced Wynonna’s reappearance; she flopped onto the armchair, eyeing them almost warily.

‘I suppose now you’ll go back to being all lovey-dovey and disgusting,’ she sighed, though Waverly could see one corner of her lips twitch with the hint of a smile.

Nicole breathed out a laugh and shifted to stand, leaving Waverly looking up at her. ‘I should go,’ she said. ‘Early shift tomorrow.’

‘Stay here?’ Waverly asked, still holding onto Nicole’s hand as though to keep her in place.

‘Ugh, does that mean I’m going to need earmuffs?’ Wynonna groaned.

Waverly snatched up a cushion and lobbed it at her sister, hitting her squarely in the face before she had time to react to the incoming projectile. Nicole chuckled as Wynonna glared back.

‘I would, but I didn’t leave enough food for CJ,’ she explained.

‘Okay, I’ll come with you instead.’

Waverly leapt off the couch to prepare her overnight bag, leaving the other two women alone for the three minutes it took to swap out the previous day’s outfit and throw in a new one, her toiletries still nestled at the bottom as she hadn’t bothered to unpack them upon arriving home.

She returned downstairs to find Wynonna and Nicole engaging in a low conversation she couldn’t quite hear; it stopped as soon as the stairs squeaked, but this time the suspicion didn’t settle upon her as she thought it might. Nicole’s bright smile as she re-entered the living room suggested it had been an innocuous enough exchange and not one about which she should worry, so she decided not to. They both had to adapt, after all.

‘Ready,’ she announced as she picked up her jacket.

‘At least I’ll get a good night’s sleep,’ Wynonna called out to her retreating back.

Pulling the door open, Waverly allowed Nicole to leave first before turning her head and poking her tongue out at her sister; the last thing she saw before she closed it behind her was Wynonna’s own small nod and a satisfied smirk.


	37. The Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nicole deals with the outcome of Cryderman's decision and Waverly hits upon a possible solution to their problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand it's me again! Long time (well, relatively), no see. So this chapter eluded me for some time, as have the previous ones. Not sure the stress of moving countries in less than a month is really good for my writing mojo, but here we are! Something to suffice for now, hopefully.
> 
> Fair warning: I may be able to get at least one more chapter up before I go, but I have very little time between now and my intended departure date, so it's not a given. However, I will be quarantining for 2 weeks upon arrival with nothing but a laptop, so I will definitely continue writing during that time. Thus, apologies in advance for what may be the longest delay between updates yet. I appreciate all of your patience for and dedication to this little fic of mine. :)

Nicole left work the next day in an absolute fury. She stormed out of the station without even wishing Nedley a goodnight and headed straight for _Shorty’s_ where she knew Waverly would be hard at work plying the town’s regulars with alcohol around the clock. The mere sight of the brunette smiling behind the bar eased the growing pressure in her chest and cooled the fire in her veins as she slid onto her usual bar stool. Within seconds Waverly had turned from her previous punter and was leaning across the counter towards her, her beaming smile now muted, fading into the subtle one Nicole had learned to recognise was reserved only for her.

‘Hey,’ Waverly murmured, reaching out to run her hand up Nicole’s shirt-clad arm; there was something different in the way she grasped the fabric between her usually gentle fingers, Nicole thought, in the way Waverly’s eyes darted over her face. ‘How was work?’

Nicole swallowed roughly, her mouth dry; almost involuntarily, she clenched the hand that rested on the bar into a tight fist. Waverly apparently noticed, for she covered it with her own, teasing Nicole’s fingers back out and lacing them through her own.

‘That bad?’ she whispered.

‘Cryderman rejected the warrant,’ Nicole replied, the words souring on her tongue. ‘Said there wasn’t enough concrete evidence to tie Bobo to any of the incidents.’

‘Even…even the one here?’

Nicole caught Waverly’s gaze as she flicked it from their intertwined hands. Even now, she still couldn’t bring herself to say the words. It hurt Nicole more than she could express in any coherent way, perhaps even more so than the attack itself.

She chose to ignore it, allowing Waverly her moment of vulnerability.

‘He said it wasn’t clear that Bobo had anything to do with it, that they could have been acting on their own initiative,’ she scoffed. ‘Even though the whole bar heard him say it was Bobo’s doing.’

Waverly sighed and pushed herself away from the counter, turning to fetch Nicole a drink. Soon a coffee was pushed in front of her along with a glass of water. She gratefully took a few sips and a deep breath along with them.

‘Maybe…’ Waverly began, glancing at Nicole before looking down at her own nails, ‘maybe it’s just best to…accept it.’

Nicole watched her swallow, her throat bobbing slightly with the action; she refused to glance back up, clearly fearful of what she might find. And though her initial reaction was to argue, to bite out that there was _no way_ she was going to give in, Nicole felt her expression soften.

‘That would certainly be the easiest thing to do,’ she agreed. ‘But I never was one for doing things the easy way.’ She offered a knowing grin to lighten the mood somewhat, to alleviate the sting she knew her words would inflict. ‘Otherwise I would have asked you out a _long_ time ago.’

Waverly smiled at that. ‘True. But then they do say the best things in life are worth the wait,’ she added with a wink.

Nicole leaned across the bar, her voice low enough so that only Waverly could hear. ‘They certainly are.’

At that moment, the double doors were flung open, one of them slamming against the wall with a resounding crash. Nicole startled and instinctively reached for her gun, her hand poised over the holster as she whipped around on the stool, her heart rate spiking as the memory of the last time she had heard such a sound flashed into her mind. Her hand trembled as she fumbled with the strap until her brain finally registered what she was seeing.

‘Fuckin’ Cryderman,’ Wynonna spat as she marched over to the bar and hauled herself onto the stool next to Nicole. ‘I always knew he was a jackass.’ She peered at the redhead more closely, darting her eyes down to the fingers that still hung loosely above her gun. ‘What’s got _your_ goat?’

Nicole shook her head and placed both hands firmly onto the counter, squeezing them into tight balls. ‘Nothing,’ she said shortly. ‘Just pissed off, same as you.’

The quick look that Waverly shot her as she reached for a whiskey glass told her that at least one of the Earp sisters didn’t buy her excuse; Wynonna, however, simply shrugged.

‘He’s always been a dick,’ she replied, rolling her eyes. ‘Made sure I got a longer sentence than usual first time I went to juvie just because it was _his_ car I vandalised.’

If Nicole had been listening properly, she may have had to bite back a reproachful retort about perhaps _not_ messing with people’s property in the first place. As it was, she was too intent upon willing her heart to stop hammering in her chest and her breathing to steady once more. She pointedly ignored the way Waverly’s eyes narrowed at her as she set the drink in front of her sister.

‘So what happens next, then?’ Waverly asked, her gaze lingering on Nicole for a few moments longer before switching to Wynonna. ‘Will Nedley try again?’

‘He said he would, but he’s not hopeful,’ Wynonna sighed. ‘And after I stuck my neck out to help. What a…’

She floundered, apparently looking for a suitably vulgar word with which to describe her judicial nemesis.

‘Shit-ticket,’ Waverly supplied with a smirk.

Wynonna grinned. ‘I love it when you say shit-ticket.’

Nicole was drawn out of her daze by the sound of the sisters chuckling. Glancing up, she found Waverly’s eyes upon her once more, the smile falling from her face as she scrutinised her girlfriend’s expression.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, sliding her hands across the bar to grasp Nicole’s once more. ‘You look…pale.’

‘She always looks pale,’ Wynonna scoffed.

Waverly shot her a glare that effectively silenced any more attempts at mockery. Nicole exhaled a heavy breath and nodded.

‘Yeah, I just…I don’t know, something came over me,’ she admitted, her whisper barely travelling the short distance between them. ‘It’s gone now, though. It’s good.’

Still Waverly didn’t look away, didn’t stop gripping her hands. Nicole heard Wynonna mutter something and felt her brush past her as she walked away. It took another ten seconds (Nicole counted, one breath for each second) before she could muster the courage to look up and see the sympathy and the pity shining in Waverly’s eyes.

‘It’s your first time back here since that day,’ Waverly said quietly. ‘It’s bound to be hard.’ Nicole opened her mouth to refute the observation, but Waverly shook her head. ‘I saw the way you reacted when Wynonna barged in here. You don’t have to hide it; it’s only natural to be affected by the memory.’

Nicole blinked, turning the words over in her mind. She hadn’t even processed the fact that she hadn’t returned to the bar since the incident, such was her fury upon finding out about Cryderman’s decision at the end of her shift. She had strode into _Shorty’s_ with only one thought in her mind: seeing Waverly, allowing her smile and the simple sight of her to wash away the anger. If she _had_ have given it some consideration, perhaps she wouldn’t have embarrassed herself so thoroughly…

‘I…didn’t think it would hit me like this,’ she confessed, watching as Waverly drew soothing patterns across the back of her hands with her thumbs, soaking in the comfort that the light touches elicited. ‘I haven’t really given it much thought the past few weeks.’

‘You never really know how you’re going to react until it happens,’ Waverly replied. Something in the way she said it caught Nicole’s attention and she looked up. ‘I used to have nightmares about _that_ day – when my dad died and Willa was taken. For years, actually.’ She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder towards the pool table where Wynonna was up to her usual tricks. ‘They got worse when she left, too.’

‘How did you – stop them?’ Nicole hated that her words came out cracked, her tongue tripping over them. ‘The nightmares?’

When Waverly turned back around to face her, Nicole was surprised to find her mouth twisted into a soft smile. ‘I didn’t. They went away by themselves, when Wynonna returned and…and when _we_ were together.’ She paused and Nicole could feel the hesitation that gripped her, the uncertainty over whether to voice her next thought. ‘At least… _those_ ones did.’

Nicole didn’t need to ask for clarification: it was there in the way Waverly’s fingers tightened over her own as they rested on the bar, in the way her eyes closed just for a moment, in the way her entire body seemed to deflate under the weight of the admission. The incident that day had changed them both in vastly different ways, it seemed.

As usual, a call from the other side of the bar dragged Waverly away from her favoured position in front of Nicole; she departed with a sigh and a quick smile – or perhaps a grimace, all things considered – leaving Nicole to mull over everything that had been said alone.

***

It was during the middle of a particularly restless night later that same week that a sudden thought struck Waverly and she sat bolt upright in her bed. Excitement coursing through her, she flung all three blankets off her and scrambled over the edge, landing on the floor with a muffled _thump_. Even in the near-darkness of the room, her eager fingers managed to find the box that she had shoved underneath her bed weeks previously – the one she hadn’t opened since that awful morning on the ranch when Curtis had found Gretel…

In her haste to pull out the sheaf of paper laying on top, Waverly slid her finger down the side too quickly, the thin material slicing through her skin with all the ease of a sharpened knife.

‘Fudge nuggets,’ she muttered, sucking at the stinging wound and tasting the coppery blood that bloomed there.

Wanting to leaf through the documents but knowing that turning her light on might wake her sister in the room across the hall, Waverly fumbled on her bedside table for phone; unlocking it clumsily with one hand, she clicked the button for her torch, the sudden brightness flooding the small space in front of her. She rifled through the myriad of documents sitting in a neat pile in the battered box, a thrill shooting through her as she considered the possibilities they presented.

Pushing aside the fact that it was still the early hours of the morning, Waverly swiped her fingers across her phone and pulled up Nicole’s number.

_Waverly [2.43am]: Are you asleep?_

She twisted around so that her back was pressed against the side of her bed, knees drawn up to her chest as she idly flicked through more of the documents in the box. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her fingers trembled ever so slightly as the adrenaline continued to seep into her body. Maybe, just _maybe_ …

The silent flash of her phone drew her attention immediately and Waverly glanced back at it, reading over Nicole’s message.

_Nicole [2.45am]: No, I can’t sleep. Something up?_

Fingers poised over the touchscreen keyboard once more, Waverly instead decided to hit the ‘call’ button; it was far easier to explain her train of thoughts verbally, she reasoned.

Nicole answered on the second ring. ‘ _Waverly? Is everything okay?_ ’

Waverly smiled at the obvious note of concern in Nicole’s voice. ‘Everything’s fine, baby. You don’t need to worry’ – because Nicole was nothing if not a worrier when it came to Waverly, she knew – ‘I just wanted to speak to you about something and I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.’

‘ _Okay_ ,’ Nicole replied slowly. Waverly heard the sounds of shuffling, as though Nicole was pulling herself up into a sitting position on her bed. ‘ _Shoot_.’

‘Okay, so Judge Cryderman said there wasn’t enough evidence tying the Revenants to all of the incidents, right?’ Nicole hummed in agreement. ‘Well, I’ve collected all these documents and snippets from over the years about the gang – ’

‘ _Sorry, you did_ what?’

Waverly paused, trying to gauge whether the interjection was one of surprise or disapproval. ‘Um, I’ve been…researching the gang for a couple of years now, since the last big incident was swept under the rug.’ She rearranged a few more of the sheaves, squinting at them in the sliver of moonlight that was now filtering through the gap in her curtains. ‘I’ve got loads of information about their members and the awful stuff they supposedly got up to. I don’t know if anything will be useful, but I…I want to try to help.’

There was a silence on the other end of the line that seemed to reach out and suffocate the last vestige of Waverly’s confidence in her plan. She had known long ago that Nicole would be upset upon finding out about her secret reconnaissance on the gang, even though she hadn’t actually done anything more dangerous than conduct numerous Google searches and scour the local library for newspaper clippings, both new and old.

‘Are you…are you mad?’ she ventured once she could bear it no longer. ‘I didn’t do anything stupid, just so you know. I just – ’

‘ _I’m not_ mad _, Waves_ ,’ came the interruption. ‘ _I’m actually…impressed_.’

‘Oh.’

Sufficed to say, that was _not_ the reaction Waverly had been anticipating; she had been certain Nicole would reproach her for acting outside of the law, for daring to look into a notorious gang with countless murders under their belts across the years without telling her. To hear something akin to admiration filtering through the speaker was more than she could have hoped for.

‘Why don’t I bring you everything I’ve got in the morning and you can see if there’s anything useful there?’ Waverly offered tentatively.

‘ _Sure, Waves. That sounds great. How about the diner? We haven’t been there for a while, now._ ’

‘You sure C.J. will manage without you for the morning?’ Waverly teased, the smirk she wore evident in her tone.

‘Quite _sure,_ ’ Nicole retorted, her own smile audible in return. ‘ _I think she loves you more than me, anyway_.’

Waverly giggled before remembering that it was still the middle of the night and clamping a hand over her mouth; she shot a quick glance at her door, listening for sounds of her sister stirring. Satisfied that Wynonna remained undisturbed, however, she breathed a sigh and returned to her phone.

‘Usual time, then?’

‘ _Usual time,_ ’ Nicole agreed. ‘ _See you soon, baby._ ’

The now-familiar endearment made Waverly’s stomach flutter pleasantly as the line went dead; every time she thought the sensation would fade, but it never had. Indeed, she hoped it never would.

Smiling down at her screen, Waverly threw the phone onto her bed and placed the lid back onto the box of her now not-so-secret research. As much as she tried to dismiss it, she couldn’t help the hopeful flurry that settled in her chest at the thought of actually being helpful, of contributing in some small way to bringing Curtis’ killers to justice. Knowing that Nicole wouldn’t relinquish the investigation any time soon, all Waverly could do was to try to support her endeavours and bring them to a swift end so that her girlfriend could return to the more humdrum, safe life of a Purgatory Sheriff’s deputy.

It was with this desire burning in her mind that Waverly settled back under her three blankets, the promise of sleep proving elusive once more.


	38. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waverly finally shows Nicole her research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again...
> 
> Yep, you guessed it - after a month I have *finally* managed to whip up a little morsel for the next chapter. It's been a tough 2 months and the jet lag is really kicking my backside still, but there...sacrifices must be made for a life of adventure!
> 
> Unsurprisingly by now, this isn't all that long, but it'll push the plot forwards a bit into (what I envisage will be) the final narrative arc. So...I hope you enjoy.
> 
> As always, thank you to all my loyal readers (and commenters - and sorry to those to whose comments I have yet to reply!): you make me smile every day. :)

‘So, what do you think?’ Waverly asked, taking the first sip of her cold coffee that she had completely ignored during her rather rambled and enthusiastic presentation of her research. 

Nicole was still looking down at the documents splayed on the table in front of her, her eyes flicking over the myriad words and images that Waverly had painstakingly collated over so many months. Waverly could feel the anticipation building within her, skittering down her spine and gripping her pounding heart as she awaited her girlfriend’s – no, a _police officer’s_ – verdict. She wrinkled her nose as she forced herself to swallow her coffee and placed the cup back down onto the table with a little more gusto than she had intended. 

It was this action that drew Nicole’s attention back to her, her expression serious and thoughtful as she nodded. ‘This looks fantastic, Waves. I definitely think we’ll be able to use it to convince Cryderman to give us the warrant.’ 

‘Really?’ Waverly breathed. ‘You actually think so?’ 

‘Of course. I wouldn’t say it otherwise.’ Nicole smiled at her, the warmth easing the jitters that still skated across Waverly’s nerves. ‘I’ll show Nedley today and see what we can pull out. Hell, I may just take the whole damn box and shove it under Cryderman’s nose, just in case.’ 

Waverly exhaled a relieved sigh, one that almost took her by surprise; quite _why_ she had been so anxious about showing Nicole her secret reconnaissance, she wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps it was still the lingering fear that somehow it would all be useless, or that Nicole would disapprove after all, reproach her for doing something completely outside of her mundane remit as a barmaid. And yet here she was, complimenting Waverly’s work, nodding as she sifted through more sheaves of paper, eyebrows quirking every so often when she came across something of particular interest, something even _she_ hadn’t found out about the gang. 

Waverly had never considered before that maybe she craved validation, but the pride that billowed in her chest, that forced its way up her throat and made it difficult to swallow all of a sudden told her otherwise. 

And Nicole was, apparently, exactly the person she needed to bestow it upon her. 

‘I should get to work and show Nedley as soon as possible,’ Nicole said as she returned the documents and photographs to the box and carefully replaced its lid. ‘I’ll let you know what he says.’ 

With an enthusiastic nod, Waverly followed Nicole’s lead and stood up, reaching for her purse to pay for their breakfast (it was, after all, her turn if she recalled correctly). But before she could even fish out the note, a hand clamped over hers and stilled it. 

‘I’m getting this one,’ Nicole explained. ‘As a small thank you, for all of this.’ 

Waverly rolled her eyes at the well-meant chivalry that was so very _Nicole_. ‘You don’t have to _thank_ me all the time, remember? And besides, it was _my_ uncle who...’ Still, she couldn’t say it. _Still_ . ‘I _want_ to help.’ 

‘I know. But I’m still paying.’ 

Another wave of rather familiar déjà vu swept Waverly out of the diner along with Nicole’s insistent hand on the small of her back; yet again her protests fell on deaf ears and she gave in, knowing there was nothing else she _could_ do in the face of such obstinacy. She managed a quick smile at Hetty, who was beaming at them across the counter, before she found herself standing outside in the cool morning air next to Nicole’s cruiser. A gentle breeze brushed over her, drawing out an involuntary shiver that prompted Nicole to run her hands up Waverly’s arms in a vain attempt to warm her. Both knew it was futile, yet neither one chose to voice this obvious fact. 

‘Why don’t you come with me?’ Nicole said suddenly. 

‘What?’ 

‘To the station. To show Nedley. You’d be able to explain it way better than me.’ 

Waverly watched Nicole for a few moments – watched as she kept her eyes trained on her own hands, as she continued with her pointless endeavour to heat up her ever-cold girlfriend. She could guess at the intent that lay behind the offer, and, whilst she appreciated the effort Nicole was clearly making to involve her, she knew better than to accept. At least this time. 

‘No, that’s okay,’ she replied. ‘You heard me rambling in there – you'd _definitely_ do a better job than I would. And besides, I have a few errands to run before my shift later.’ 

Nicole didn’t believe her – _that_ much was clear – but she nodded all the same and hooked her car keys from out of her jacket pocket. ‘I’ll swing by the bar after work and let you know how it goes,’ she said as she pulled open the driver’s door. 

And, sliding into the seat, she fired up the engine and took off. Waverly stared down the street until the car rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight. She didn’t know whether it was simply Nicole’s belief in her that bolstered her own confidence, but she couldn’t temper the crazy feeling that things were going to work out for the best – for once. 

And, really, didn’t they all deserve that? 

*** 

‘I think I’ve made my case,’ Randy Nedley said four hours later, sitting back in his chair and eyeing Judge Cryderman with a look that screamed a level of smugness and self-assurance that Nicole had never seen from the otherwise-humble Sheriff. 

Nicole fought to suppress a triumphant smirk from curling her lips as she watched Cryderman glare at the papers strewn across his desk, each one hand-picked from Waverly’s extensive research to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Robert Svane was the mastermind behind each one of the heinous crimes that had scarred the town over the past several years. Within the minutes of tense silence that followed, Cryderman opened his mouth a number of times as though to refute some point or other, only to snap it shut again upon realising the futility of his actions. Beside Nicole, Nedley folded his arms across his chest and sucked in a breath that sounded for all the world one of immense satisfaction – and deep relief. 

‘ _Fine_ ,’ the judge snapped moments later. ‘You can have your damn warrant, Randy. But I’m warning you: I will _not_ be here to bail you out should something go wrong, especially with the _Earp_ girl around – not like the last time.’ 

‘Much obliged, _Richard_ ,’ Nedley smiled, standing up and moving to gather the pile of documents whilst Cryderman hastily scrawled his signature onto a crisp, new warrant. ‘And you needn’t worry this time. I have good backup with me,’ he added with a glance at Nicole. 

The sudden burst of immense pride and joy that surged through Nicole at her boss’s words lasted all the way out to the cruiser; it warmed the tips of her fingers as she grasped the cold door handle and settled into the passenger seat. Even Cryderman’s answering scoff couldn’t dampen the sensation. 

‘So that’s it?’ she asked, her innate caution prodding her to say something, as it always did. ‘He won’t back out at the last minute and leave us high and dry?’ 

‘He’s a Dick in more ways ’n one,’ Nedley chuckled, amused by his own joke, ‘but Cryderman isn’t stupid. He knows I could go above his head with this and land him in hot water if he even tried.’ 

Nicole grinned. ‘I’ll take your word for it, sir.’ 

‘Probably best.’ Nedley turned the key and set off at a speed that belied his years as a steady and law-abiding officer of the law; Nicole let the observation pass without comment. ‘Right, we’ve got _a lot_ of work to do.’ 

*** 

It was as Waverly was readying the bar for closing, turning over chairs and stools and propping them onto tables, that Nicole stumbled through the doors hours later, visibly exhausted but wearing an expression of utter contentment that the brunette hadn’t seen in some weeks. She ushered Nicole over to her usual bar stool next to Wynonna, who was busy draining the dregs of her latest drink; she offered a knowing smirk as the redhead slumped down next to her. 

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Wynonna assured her friend. ‘Leaving that honour up to you.’ 

Waverly narrowed her eyes at the pair as she poured Nicole a drink and pushed it across the counter towards her. ‘What are you two scheming?’ 

Wynonna let her mouth drop open in faux outrage, clutching one hand to her chest and uttering a noise of protest. ‘I am _offended_ by such a baseless accusation. To think, my baby sister still doesn’t trust me after _all these years_. I’m – ’ 

With a rather exaggerated roll of the eyes, Waverly put one finger up to Wynonna’s lips and turned to face Nicole instead. ‘Well?’ 

If Nicole was going to try to prolong the reveal any longer, Waverly’s raised eyebrow and hand perched on her hip in her recognisable _Don’t even try_ _it_ stance clearly convinced her otherwise. She took a quick sip of her drink, her eyes lighting up even before she spoke. 

‘We got the warrant.’ 

All traces of irritation melted as soon as Waverly heard the words of confirmation she had been waiting for all day long. With a squeal of delight, she ran around the bar and threw herself into Nicole’s arms; neither one seemed to mind the fact that she almost toppled them off the stool, nor Wynonna’s conspicuously loud gagging noises as Waverly planted a fierce kiss onto her girlfriend’s lips. 

‘You did it!’ she cried. ‘You can finally get those _shit-eaters_ after all these years.’ 

Nicole shook her head as Waverly settled into her embrace, the brunette’s hands going almost instinctively to the back of her neck and twisting the tiny red strands of hair between her fingers. ‘No, Waves. _You_ did it. We wouldn’t have got it without everything you gave us. Trust me, we tried.’ 

Waverly made a noise as though to refute the claim, but Wynonna chimed in, interrupting her before she could even voice it. ‘She’s right, baby girl. Nedley didn’t have enough to convince him until you whipped out your oh-so-secret stash – which, by the way, I am _devastated_ not to have known about sooner.’ 

Waverly met her pointed look with an even sharper one of her own; her unspoken – and by now oft-repeated – rebuke about her sister’s long and frequent absences over the years elicited a sheepish shrug and a smile from Wynonna and that was the end of _that_. Hopefully for good this time. 

And as though to emphasise the finality of the moment, Wynonna stretched across the counter and grabbed the whiskey bottle with a practised hand, brandishing it in front of Waverly as the liquid inside sloshed around with her enthusiasm. 

‘Get yourself a drink because this is cause for the _ultimate_ celebration,’ she said, making to top up Nicole’s hardly-touched beverage. 

‘Don’t you think we should wait until – ’ Nicole began, but the splashes of whiskey across the back of her hand as it began to spill over her glass cut her off. 

‘Nope. No waiting. We’re doing this _now_.’ 

Nicole glanced at Waverly, a cheery sort of resignation written across her tired features. With a half-shrug, she raised her glass up in imitation of Wynonna’s own action with the rest of the bottle, handing over her own now-full glass to her sister. 

‘Bottoms up, bitches,’ she cackled. 

And if they spent just a _little_ too long and drank a _little_ too much that night, who could blame them? For one night only, each of them pushed aside their various worries, their many anxieties over what the coming days would bring, and revelled in the small victory they had achieved – together – on that day. The rest could wait until the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And AO3 isn't accepting my formatting (indented paragraphs, changing the spacing between italicised words) once again, so if it's wonky, you'll know why...bloody online Word 365 I'm now forced to use...*grumbles*...


	39. The Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally make a move on Bobo. It's all or nothing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't even pretend it hasn't been a ridiculously long time since I've managed to update this one. Though I know where I'm going with it, and though the end is nigh, I've just struggled with writing it in a way that I'm satisfied with. I don't want the payoff to be anticlimactic after everything. So, let's hope it's not!

**Chapter 39**

Nicole couldn’t sleep. It was the night before the op and the anxiety, the excitement, the doubts were mingling and warring and setting her nerves alight. This would be the biggest raid she had been a part of - well, not counting that one time in the city where she helped bust a notorious drug ring - and it was her chance to prove herself to Nedley and the rest of the department. To prove that she belonged, that she could handle whatever the town threw at her.

And to prove to Waverly that she could trust her to live up to her promises. If she were being honest with herself, that reason trumped all others. It was no contest.

It was funny, really, how quickly things could change. There was a time when all she had thought about was rising up the ranks, earning her stripes and being the best she could for her own pride, to demonstrate her own worth to herself and nobody else. Now…

Now everything she did was for those she cared about, for her newfound family. For the Earps. It had been a long time since she had had _anybody_ to look after, to...love. It was an odd feeling, yet not an unpleasant one by any means. She could certainly get used to it. Even if it did come with its own trials and upheavals at times.

A gentle snuffling sound next to her drew her attention away from her cracked ceiling and to the beautiful woman lying asleep in her arms. She still couldn’t believe how lucky she was. Sure, the dating options in Purgatory may have been limited (Waverly’s words), but still: she chose Nicole. She _chose_ Nicole. Over everyone else and in spite of the odds. This had definitely been a good year for Nicole - no, the _best_ year of her life thus far. Stabbing aside, of course.

Now just to ensure it continued along the same vein with the op tomorrow…

Knowing she was unlikely to sleep much, she instead drew Waverly closer to her and wrapped her arms more tightly around her torso, feeling the warmth beneath her fingers seeping through her girlfriend’s silky nightdress. Right now, it was all the relaxation she needed to psyche herself up for everything the next day had in store.

It couldn’t go wrong.

***

Waverly couldn’t focus. In spite of the tentative reassurances Nicole had offered her that morning after a hurried breakfast, she couldn't sit still. Knowing that the people she loved the most were in danger at that very second was enough to destroy any hope she had of being productive. Instead, she tried to distract herself by feeding CJ - repeatedly, every time the feline looked even vaguely hungry - and begging for the cat’s attention in a wild turnabout of usual behaviours. When that didn’t work, she resorted to plumping each of the cushions on the sofa. Three times. After that, it was the kitchen surfaces’ turn; she scrubbed them, imagining miniscule germs scurrying around on the tops and squeezing into the scratches and grooves, ready to thrive and multiply. It was ridiculous, of course, and yet...

She kept telling herself that Nicole had been trained for just these sorts of situations, as had Nedley. And Wynonna...well, her sister had (probably) been through worse and survived almost unscathed each time. There was something to be said for that, surely?

Though she knew it was counterproductive, the temptation to call Nicole and check that she was okay was almost overwhelming. Several times she had snatched up her phone, unlocked it, and brought up Nicole’s number, and each time she had come to her senses in time to avoid pressing the green button. Each time she had made herself a fresh cup of herbal tea, every one ending up barely touched and thrown down the sink with a prolonged sigh.

After an hour and a half, she gave up and slumped onto the sofa, earphones in, favourite album on, and lost herself in the lyrics of that fateful song she had sent to Nicole after that night in the bar. It helped, for a while.

Yet it would also be the reason she wouldn’t hear the telltale sounds later that would otherwise alert her to danger of her own…

***

Nicole squinted against the glare of the early-morning sun, ignoring the beads of sweat that were beginning to gather on her forehead. The rising heat was a minor obstacle in the face of what they had come to accomplish.

This was it: they were finally standing outside Bobo’s trailer, a squad of officers behind them, ready to arrest the scumbag responsible for Curtis’ murder and a whole slew of other heinous crimes over the years. The anxiety and excitement and doubt crept up her spine, raising the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.

_For Waverly._

Nicole watched as Nedley stepped forwards and wrapped his knuckles against the trailer door.

‘This is the Purgatory Sheriff’s Department. We have a warrant to search the premises.’ No answer. ‘If you don’t open the door, we are authorised to bust it open.’ Again, no answer. Nedley looked over his shoulder and signalled to two officers. ‘Do it.’

‘Bobo’s busy,’ a voice drawled nearby.

A man was leaning against the side of the trailer, yellowing teeth set in a grimy face, smirking at them.

‘Where is he?’ Nedley demanded.

‘Dunno,’ the man replied. ‘Around, somewhere.’

Nicole watched as Nedley’s fingers curled into a fist then relaxed again; he repeated this action several times, though whether consciously or not, Nicole couldn’t tell. It was a tic she had picked up on over the months, a sign that the Sheriff was agitated.

‘Why don’t you go and find him and tell him we need to speak with him,’ Nedley replied, the steadiness of his voice belying the tension seizing his aging muscles.

‘No can do. Boss said he didn’t wanna be disturbed. And anyway, I don’t know where he is exactly. Like I tol’ ya.’

Nicole breathed in deeply, a futile attempt to settle her own nerves. He was deliberately trying to wind them up, that much was clear. Whether he actually knew where Bobo was or not, however, was up for debate. The smirk told her that he probably did.

‘Then I’m afraid we don’t have time to waste.’ Nedley once again gestured to the two officers to break down the door. ‘After you, fellas.’

The men nodded and stepped in front of the Sheriff, department-issued battering ram in hand.

‘Bobo won’t much like having his place trashed,’ the man said quickly. Something in his eyes - was it fear? - caught Nicole’s attention; he began to drum one finger against his leg, rhythmically, so fast it became a blur. ‘I reckon y’all should wait till he’s back.’

‘Levi, you best stand back before I arrest you for obstruction,’ Nedley barked at him over the sound of metal and plastic bending and splintering.

With a scowl, Levi slunk off, presumably to find Bobo. Nicole watched him go through narrowed eyes. There was something in his expression that unsettled her. Something behind the bravado and vague responses. But that thought was soon pushed from her mind as Nedley called for her to follow him into the trailer.

Inside was as messy and disorganised as she had expected: papers were strewn everywhere, clothes littered every available surface, and days’ worth of crockery teetered in a reeking pile in the sink. And yet…

There was some crazy method in the madness.

‘Looks like Bobo has been doing some tidying,’ Wynonna said as she strolled in after them.

Nedley scoffed at the joke but Nicole knew he was thinking the same thing as she was.

‘What’s the betting we find nothing in here?’ she asked, eyes flicking over the chaos.

‘Oh, you can count on it.’ He looked over at her; they shared a knowing glance, both coming to the exact same conclusion. ‘He was tipped off.’

‘Fucking Cryderman,’ Nicole growled, earning a raised eyebrow from her boss - and Wynonna. ‘Sorry, sir.’

‘No, I think you’re right. He’s a dick, as I said. I half-expected him to pull something like this.’ He sighed and surveyed the scene again. ‘Still, we have to look. Just in case.’

‘I never thought I’d hear Randy Nedley call someone else a dick. I guess there’s a first time for everything,’ Wynonna murmured as she prodded a box of magazines with one boot.

Nicole nodded in response to Nedley (ignoring the older Earp entirely) and followed suit, diving into the nearby stack of documents and scouring them for any hint of a tenuous tie to the crime spree over the past decade. When nothing came to light, she moved onto the drawers under the sink, the cupboards opposite, the space underneath the bed at the far end of the trailer.

Nothing.

After thirty minutes of fine-tooth combing through every nook and cranny, they had _nothing_. Despite the fact that she had expected as much, Nicole was still beyond frustrated. Without thinking, she swept the pile of papers off the nearby table, growling curses and oaths at the absent Bobo. Nedley pretended not to notice.

Wynonna, however, had no such tact. ‘Woah, Haught Shot, calm yourself. You might pop a vein under that ghostly skin of yours otherwise.’

Nicole ignored her. Again. ‘Where the hell is Bobo?’ she muttered, raking a hand through her hair as she stalked outside.

Levi was back, once more leaning against the side of the trailer. The hint of a smirk from earlier was back, his eyes trained on Nicole as she walked down the steps.

‘I hope ya left it the same way ya found it,’ Levi chirped. His voice grated against Nicole’s nerves; she gritted her teeth as she turned to look at him, jaw muscles tensing. ‘Bobo won’t be happy if it ain’t.’

‘Quite frankly, I couldn’t care less _what_ Bobo thinks,’ Nicole spat. ‘Where is he? He should’ve been back by now.’

Levi pushed himself off the trailer and approached her, smiling with those yellow teeth of his; the sharp tang of body odour accompanied him. Nicole wrinkled her nose in disgust. She was never usually unnerved by much, but today, right now, was different.

Something was wrong.

‘Where is he?’ she repeated, much more slowly, much more quietly, and _much_ more menacingly, trying to conceal the waver in her voice. ‘Where is Bobo?’

‘He ain’t here,’ Levi replied.

‘What?’

‘He ain’t here,’ Levi said again. ‘He weren’t never here.’

Nicole stared at him, through him, processing his words. _Bobo isn’t here. Wasn’t ever here._

So where was he?

‘Tell your li’l’ girlfriend we said hi when you see her. _If_ you see her.’

And, just like that, the penny dropped. Nicole stood motionless, exhaling a long breath as the truth sunk in. Her old wound prickled and she winced, her hand grasping at it automatically.

‘Red, what’s going on?’

Wynonna’s voice behind her, calling out. Yet all she could think about, all she could focus on, was Waverly. At home. Alone…

She spun around and began to run towards her cruiser, fumbling in her pocket for her keys, barely registering Nedley’s sharp questions over the sound of her own heartbeat throbbing in her ears and the crunch of the stones beneath her boots.

Both he and Wynonna caught up to her before she could clamber inside the car.

‘Haught, what’s wrong?’ Nedley asked. ‘What did he say?’

‘Bobo,’ she muttered. ‘He’s with Waverly. She was at mine this morning, but...I don’t know now.’

A string of expletives exploded from Wynonna’s mouth and Nedley leant down closer to Nicole.

‘Go, now. You go to your house, we’ll take the homestead,’ he said quietly.

Nicole nodded and jammed the key into the ignition as the Sheriff slammed the door shut.

Truthfully, she shouldn’t have been the one to drive. Her focus had tunnelled, fixating on Waverly alone and _not_ the road in front of her. She drove on autopilot, and it was lucky there were few other vehicles around at the time as she desperately tried to ring Waverly’s cell over and over again. Each time she received no answer. It did nothing to alleviate the nausea pooling in her gut. Ignoring the questions issuing in a static crackle from the car radio, Nicole pressed her foot down onto the gas pedal, willing it to go faster in spite of the immense speed she was already travelling, the countryside around her passing in a blur of green and brown.

It was unsurprising, therefore, that she was pulling into her own drive mere minutes later. She had barely stopped the engine before she was tumbling out of the car and sprinting towards the front door, legs feeling altogether too leaden and numb to carry her weight. Clutching her gun and holding it in front of her - steadily, she was surprised to note absentmindedly - Nicole edged into the house.

It was...too quiet. No sound of footsteps, of movement, even voices. Not even CJ's desperate mewling that usually accompanied her arrival home. Perhaps Waverly had gone back to the homestead after all.

She wasn’t sure whether that prospect was one she should be grateful about.

Still, Nicole had to be certain before she left. She would never forgive herself if…

She exhaled slowly, focusing on the task at hand and banishing all such pessimistic thoughts. Bobo had already taken one member of the Earp family; she would be damned if he would get another.

One glance over the living room revealed nothing; the same was true of the cupboard, which she yanked open just in case. Sighing, she knew there was nowhere else to go but up. Skipping that one stair that always creaked, she moved silently up the rest, eyes trained on the landing above. The temptation to call out to Waverly tugged at her throat, but she resisted; the last thing she wanted was to alert Bobo to her presence, if indeed he was even here. If only she could catch him unawares…

As she reached the top landing, she noticed that only one door was ajar: the one to her own bedroom. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed it open all the way - 

‘Ah, welcome home,’ a gravelly voice said. ‘It’s about time you joined us.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, not shocking in the slightest! As if anyone really expected everything to go off without a hitch at the most dramatic point of the story. :)
> 
> I shall endeavour not to wait 4 months this time to update the next chapter. I envisage there being only a few more, at most. So hold on for the rest of the ride!
> 
> Adieu for now, lovely readers. Till next time...


	40. The Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the standoff takes place, with Waverly's life on the line and Nicole alone to deal with the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it should be obvious by now, but life really has got in the way of my writing lately. Sorry it took a whole 2 months to get this one up! We're coming to the end of this fic, though. I'll say it again in the final chapter (whenever that may be!) but thank you to everyone who has stuck around for the long ride. Words cannot do justice to the joy and the gratitude that I feel knowing there are people out there who have enjoyed reading this; it really is the fuel that keeps me going, even when things get difficult.
> 
> Without any further rambling, here's the outcome of that cliffhanger...

Nicole stopped in her tracks. Standing by the window was Bobo - she’d recognise that ratty coat fur coat and ridiculous mohawk anywhere - one arm wrapped around - 

‘Waverly,’ Nicole breathed, her heart skipping a painful beat. ‘Are you hurt?’

Waverly tried to shake her head, but the hand clamped over her mouth held her firm, the other pressing a knife to her neck, its point already drawing droplets of blood. Nicole’s own hand shook as she aimed her gun at Bobo’s head; seeing Waverly so terrified, trembling…

‘Let her go,’ she growled. ‘I won’t hesitate to shoot you.’

‘I have no doubt,’ Bobo chuckled, a deep, rough sound, not at all what she had been expecting. ‘But do you really think you can manage it before I sink this blade into your girlfriend’s pretty throat?’

The truth, that she didn’t even need to utter aloud, was no. From everything she had read about him, she was certain Bobo was skilled (and cruel) enough to pull that off before she even had time to squeeze the trigger. She swallowed, mind throwing up various strategies and scenarios, desperate to find just  _ one  _ that would leave Waverly alive and unharmed.

She had no time to dwell on the way he lingered over the word ‘girlfriend’, drawing it out with a smirk twisting his lips, how he had managed to surmise that fact before -

‘Throw away your gun,’ Bobo snarled. ‘Over here’.

It was the only option. The only choice that would buy her a little time. Although, perhaps ‘choice’ wasn’t the right word here…

Her teeth gritted, Nicole did as instructed and tossed her service weapon towards Bobo’s feet. If this had been a Hollywood film, perhaps it would have gone off of its own accord and shot the bastard in the leg, giving her time to dive towards him, to wrestle the knife from his grubby hands, and -

But, alas, it was not.

‘Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t.’

Her eyes snapped up to Bobo’s. Clearly something in her expression had revealed her absurd thoughts. She had to work harder to conceal them from him if she was to gain the upper hand in this incredibly one-sided standoff.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, pleased to find her voice had steadied. ‘Why are you doing this?’

Bobo’s grip on Waverly’s throat tightened, just a fraction, but it was enough to yield a pained whimper. The only sign of Nicole’s distress, her boiling anger, was the whites of her knuckles as she clenched her hands into fists at her side. They felt strangely empty and useless, bereft of the one thing that may give her an advantage right about now. Her eyes flickered involuntarily down to her discarded gun. If Bobo noticed, he chose to ignore it in favour of answering her questions.

‘You already know why,’ he said. ‘You’ve been digging around. You, and this pretty little angel here.’ Nicole was determined not to catch Waverly’s eye for fear of what she might see, of what that sight might provoke her into doing. ‘I want the other one.’

Nicole frowned, opened her mouth to ask who on earth he meant, before the realisation hit her. But it wasn’t she who voiced it.

‘Wynonna...Earp.’ Bobo dragged the syllables out, seeming to savour the sound of the older Earp’s name in his mouth, ending on a snarl that left his teeth bared like a rabid dog’s. ‘She needs to pay for what she did.’

There was no need to ask him to clarify. Nicole remembered all too clearly the conversation in Nedley’s office, Wynonna’s confession over what had happened years ago, before she had left Purgatory.

So that was why he held Waverly hostage, why he held a blade to her slender neck and threatened to kill her. All so he could avenge his dead brother.

And they had walked right into his trap.

Nicole felt a bubble of nausea roll up her throat and she swallowed. She had to stall, to give the others time to...what? To charge in and overpower Bobo? To negotiate? No, that wasn’t their style. Waverly would never allow it, let alone Wynonna.

Still, she had no choice.

‘Wynonna’s not coming,’ she said, the slightest of tremors in her voice betraying her. But only to those who knew her well enough. ‘I came here alone.’

‘Well, I guess you’ll just have to get her here somehow, won’t you?’

Waverly squirmed in his grip, uttered what sounded like an attempt at ‘No!’ before it was snatched away by Bobo’s fingers clawing at her mouth again.

‘None of that!’ he hissed. ‘Not unless you want your cop girlfriend to explain to your dear sister why your bloody corpse was left for her to find on the porch of your home.’

Mind racing, Nicole deliberated: she  _ could  _ call Wynonna, tell her exactly where she was and what was happening. Perhaps she would then tell Nedley and they would...what? Bring along reinforcements, surround the house and demand Bobo release his hostage? She could tell, from the disquieting emptiness that resided in his pale eyes to the firm set of his bearded jaw, that he was not one to give in so easily. She  _ knew _ , deep in the pit of her sinking stomach, that he would rather follow through on his threat and take Waverly with him.

And she also knew, from the determined glint in Waverly’s eyes - the one that shone even through the fear and the panic and the onset of tears glistening there - that it was the last thing she wanted. She’d rather risk sacrificing herself than give up Wynonna.

Nicole bit her cheek, hard enough to draw blood, at the sickening realisation.

But there would be no more sacrificial risks on her watch. Not if she had anything to say about it.

‘So, you want Wynonna to come here, and then what?’ she demanded, her voice more of a growl once more, shaking with the anger that burned her throat as she forced herself to speak, to think, to stall. ‘You think we’ll just let you do what you want? To leave with her? To  _ kill _ her?’

Bobo’s gruff, ringing laughter made her flinch. ‘Oh, girlie, no. We wouldn’t kill her.’ A beat. His gaze seemed to dare her to move, to look away; Nicole held it with a defiant one of her own. ‘At least, not right away. She needs to understand the pain she inflicted all those years ago, to  _ feel _ it before I grant her mercy.’

The obvious pleasure he took in imagining whatever it was he wanted to  _ inflict _ upon Wynonna made Waverly squirm once more, but Bobo hardly reacted to it this time, his clutch on her still unyieldingly firm. Nicole’s fingers flexed reflexively at her sides, longing to wrap around the scumbag’s throat and - 

‘I’m going to give you ten minutes to get her here,’ Bobo continued, his voice a menacing hiss now, almost inaudible. ‘Before…’

Eyes fixed on Nicole’s, he slid the blade across Waverly’s throat, watching for her reaction,  _ pushing _ for a response.

Nicole wasn’t one to disappoint.

Limbs urged on by fury and righteous justice alone, her rationality consumed by its same fire, she took a half-step forwards -

‘You won’t have to wait that long,’ a voice called out behind her.

Nicole whipped around to find -

_ No… _

‘Wynonna Earp,’ Bobo grunted. This time, her name on his lips sounded less like a provocation and more like poison, an irritant he longed to spit out and rid himself of once and for all. ‘So, this is all it took for you to show your murderous face.’

‘Speaking of murderers,’ Wynonna said slowly, edging into the room, an old-fashioned revolver gripped in one hand and aimed squarely at Bobo’s forehead, ‘did you really think we wouldn’t be able to link you to Curtis? That I wouldn’t take  _ extreme _ pleasure in repaying you for that?’

That now-familiar smirk slid into place on Bobo’s lips, drawing an involuntary shudder from Nicole as she watched the tense exchange, eyes flicking around the room in a desperate bid to find  _ something  _ to turn the tide in their favour.

‘Stupid girl,’ Bobo barked, his chuckle entirely devoid of mirth. ‘That’s exactly why my boys did it. I promised you years ago you’d pay for JJ’s death. That I’d make you  _ suffer _ .’

‘You did,’ Wynonna replied, and Nicole could only admire the calmness that suffused her words. How the roles had reversed. ‘So why don’t you make good on that and let my sister go.  _ Then _ I’ll come with you. Not before.’

Again, that despairing sound was squeezed from Waverly, a wild attempt to argue. Again, it never materialised, muffled by Bobo’s hand.

‘And how do I know the good old Sheriff will just let me walk out of here with you?’ He shook his head. ‘No, I think I’d better hold onto this one. You understand.’

The tightening of her grip on the gun was the only sign of Wynonna’s tempestuous emotions; in a rare moment of clarity, Nicole revelled in the fact that she knew the oldest Earp well enough to recognise it now.

But that moment was fleeting, engulfed by the thickening tension that curdled in the room, sliding into the silence that ensued as both Wynonna and Bobo glared at each other. Neither one spoke. Both seemed to be weighing their options.

Then, startling them all, a siren shrieked outside, announcing Nedley’s arrival. Bobo’s gaze averted for a second, his head turning a fraction to glance over his shoulder.

It was enough.

Her eyes fixed on Waverly’s, Wynonna nodded. Just a nod.

But it was enough.

Waverly understood.

As Bobo’s attention returned to the scene in front of them, Wynonna squeezed the trigger.

The sound exploded into the silence as the bullet ripped through Bobo’s shoulder, staggering him, his grip on Waverly loosening just enough for her to twist in his hold and shove him away from her.

Hard.

When Nicole would look back on this moment over the next few weeks, it would seem almost clichéd, the way the seconds seemed to slow to a crawl so that she could see it all unfold so clearly.

Waverly threw herself into Nicole’s waiting arms; she, in turn, gripped the younger woman with all the force she could muster, feeling the terrified tremor as it wracked her girlfriend’s entire body.

Bobo stumbled backwards, the knife still gripped in his left hand, his arms swinging out to the side as he tried to steady himself.

Before he could manage it, Wynonna had cocked the revolver again and unloaded a second bullet into his chest, the wound blooming dark and red, bleeding through his stained white shirt.

An expression of utter surprise dragged Bobo’s mouth open as he collapsed to his knees. The knife clattered to the floor, his hand trembling against his chest.

The second before he fell, the smirk reappeared, stained by the blood that trickled from his mouth.

And then he was gone. No fanfare, no last-second monologue laced with loathing. Just a life snuffed out in the time it took for Nicole to blink once, twice, three times.  


Nobody spoke for the first minute. Nobody dared to even breathe loudly. The silence was so tense, so immense, so crushing, that Nicole could only hear her own heart beating a furious rhythm in her ears.

But she could certainly  _ feel _ Waverly’s fingers as they clasped her, nails digging into the fabric of her shirt, needing the harsh touch to reassure her that she was okay. That everything was  _ okay _ .

When it was clear that Bobo was not getting up, Wynonna exhaled a deep breath and hurried over to pick up his knife. With more force than was strictly necessary, she kicked him in the side to make sure he was down for good, before turning her impassive expression on the two women watching her.

‘Waves…’ she whispered, the word trembling in the air between them. Waverly relinquished her grip on Nicole and instead threw her arms around her sister, giving into the tears that had been threatening to spill ever since Nicole had arrived. ‘I’m so sorry…’

Not wanting to disturb such a sacred moment, yet unable to banish the question that leapt on the tip of her tongue, Nicole sought out Wynonna’s gaze as she looked up over Waverly’s shoulder. ‘How did you know?’ she murmured. ‘You got here so quickly…’

The suggestion of a smile flickered across Wynonna’s drawn face, the action speaking of the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon her after such a rush of adrenaline. ‘I was halfway home when I realised that Waverly wouldn’t be there.’

A momentary frown lined Nicole’s brow. Even she hadn’t known for sure that Waverly would be here after she had left her this morning. Though she had opted to come here first in the initial panic that had swept through her at the trailer park, a part of her had been certain that Waverly would have returned to the homestead in her absence. Yet Wynonna…

‘I realised that she would be where you were,’ Wynonna continued, her voice dipping into a hushed, almost reverent whisper. ‘That she will  _ always _ be where you are.’

As though seeking confirmation of such a revelation, Nicole lowered her eyes to Waverly, who turned to look back at her. Through the tears and the fear and the bewilderment at what had just transpired, Waverly smiled.

It wasn’t the brightest, nor the longest, nor even the warmest smile Waverly had offered, but the adoration there, the merest hint of - dare she even think it? Hope for it? -  _ love _ that hovered on her lips spoke the truth that Waverly clearly could not, perhaps  _ would  _ not, yet verbalise.

And that, in its simplicity and profundity, was enough for Nicole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I toyed with different outcomes to this scenario in my head, but finally settled on this one. It felt only right that Wynonna would be the one to end it after all that had happened, and not Waverly or Nicole. It also felt much more in-keeping with her character, even if we have seen Nicole shoot someone in a very similar situation in the show.
> 
> Now just to wrap it all up nicely over the next however-many (not many) chapters! Stay tuned, lovely readers. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate thoughts and feedback, so feel free to drop me a line to let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Oh, and if you fancy inane ramblings, mostly retweets about Wynonna Earp, and GIF frenzies galore, then feel free to find me on Twitter @Bennet871.
> 
> I've also been adding songs to a Spotify playlist that have been included in this story/remind of Wayhaught in general. Right now it's replete with unabashed 90s/2000s/modern pop with some rock/country, so I'll apologise in advance for the cheesiness haha. Find it here:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5HwPK4HyOjPOHTnGiEuGn2?si=un31rhRdSDeB270547F-qQ


End file.
